


The Persephone Effect

by felicia_angel



Series: Tear You Apart [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Albert Wesker is a bad father, Anger Management, BAD anger management, BDSM-inspired Torture, Because he's a cinnamon roll and I love him shut up, Chris is having a bad time, F/M, Finn Lives, Fucking Machines, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jake and Sherry are sweet, Jill gets a love interest besides Chris or a girl, Jill is a badass leader, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mummification, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Piers Nivans Lives, Praise Kink, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sounding, Torture, Y'ALL NEED JESUS, because you all love it, why am i still writing this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicia_angel/pseuds/felicia_angel
Summary: Continuation of Code: Ishtar - Chris is once more in Wesker's hands. Can he survive another round of Wesker's tender mercies? In the meantime, Jake, Sherry, Piers, and Finn start to plot an escape...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So due to me putting this up late-night and right before I updated I never thanked my beta, lullite or the people who read this!   
> I blame the late night. and me getting sick. both. idk.
> 
> So for those who need a refresher:  
> Part 1 (Ganymede): Chris is captured by Wesker while following up on a bad lead. Chris is given a drug that makes him susceptible to viral infection, and becomes infected by Wesker's Prototype virus after Wesker has his way with him. As a result of the virus, Chris becomes abnormally sensitive to physical stimulation from Wesker, who discovers this side effect and uses it against Chris to great effect. Wesker in turn becomes increasingly obsessed with Chris and subjects him to various abuses in an attempt to break him. Jill escapes from captivity due to TRICELL's carelessness during an experiment, and returns to the B.S.A.A.. Having lost interest in the Uroborous project, Wesker leaves TRICELL before Uroborous is complete, bringing Chris with him.
> 
> Part 2 (Katabasis): Two months after Chris's disappearance, Jill and Sheva are sent to Kijuju after receiving intelligence that TRICELL is planning something big there. Excella has Raymond Vester and Jessica Sherawat under her employ, with the goal of obtaining the Uroborous virus from Wesker and turning Wesker back to their side. Wesker decides to directly engage TRICELL, bringing with him an unwilling Chris, who is kept under his control by P30, an drug that forces obedience. In the midst of these happenings, Wesker further traumatizes Chris by forcing him to interact with Simon Clay, the Air Force captain who abused him and caused him to be discharged from the military. Wesker causes Clay's death by infecting him with Uroborous. Excella, Raymond, and Jessica are eventually killed. Jill and Sheva manage to fight off Wesker before he can leave with Chris. Chris is rescued.
> 
> Part 3 (Ishtar): One month after being rescued, Chris physically recovers and is permitted to continue working in the B.S.A.A., but at a lower rank due to concerns about the effects of his Prototype virus infection. Enrique Affini, the director of the B.S.A.A.'s European branch, is particularly suspicious of Chris. Using an accomplice who is a student, Wesker begins to test the C-virus at an isolated boarding school for the children of the rich and powerful, with the plan of eventually causing an outbreak so that the B.S.A.A. would send Chris. Professor Wright, Sherry, and Jake are called to the school by the headmistress to investigate the cases of strange viral infections that are happening as a result of Wesker's experiments. The Edonian Liberation Army lays siege to the port town near the school and uses an unknown virus to cause an outbreak at the town. The B.S.A.A. sends several teams, including Chris, to the town. Most of the agents are killed. Chris, Piers, Finn, and Merah survive and are ordered by the B.S.A.A. to go protect the school, though by the time they arrive Wesker's accomplice has initiated a full-blown C-virus outbreak. Wesker appears at the school and kidnaps Chris, Piers, Finn, Jake, and Sherry. Merah is revealed to have other loyalties when she tries to shoot Chris but hits Piers instead.

After the past few months worth of “leadership” (not much more than glorified desk duty and bureaucracy, as she quickly discovered), Jill feels better to be out in the field again. She is leading one team amongst many to search the devastated port town for survivors. What a way to spend Christmas Day...

It has been three days since the port town was destroyed and infected by the ELA’s unknown t-virus variant. During the fiasco, Charlie team and nearly all of Alpha team went missing. She wanted to send back up immediately, but the higher ups decided to break the ELA’s siege first, to avoid having more people get trapped or lost to bombardments. Now that the ELA’s positions have been overrun, multiple teams, including hers, are converging on the town. She just hopes it’s not too late for the survivors left behind the first time. Before they went missing, Charlie team was able to evacuate a number of civilians by boat. The problem is, nearly all of the rescued civilians have tested positive for the virus. They have been treated with a modified version of Daylight. The B.S.A.A.’s research department worked nonstop for the past few days to develop this treatment, as soon as they discovered the virus’s similarity to the t-virus. Now the only thing left to do is wait to see whether the treatment will work.

What happened at the school almost doesn’t bear thinking about. The final tally of the number of children found alive is barely past twenty. Wright is alive, but with several injuries and a rattling cough that sounds like the beginnings of pneumonia. The students’ families and the media are all clamoring for information on what happened at the school, but nobody who potentially knows the full story is around to provide an answer. The B.S.A.A. doesn’t have much information, period. Last she heard, the B.S.A.A. had to burn the bodies at the school for the purpose of biohazard containment. The whole debacle is neither pretty nor easy. The frantic calls from worried parents are only adding to the stress of it all. 

Of the four Alpha team members who made it to the school, only Merah was found by Delta team yesterday. According to the limited information she provided before being taken away for medical treatment, Wesker had absconded with Chris last night, a few hours prior to Delta team’s arrival. Merah’s earpiece is damaged beyond repair, so there’s no chance of analyzing the audio recordings from the device for additional data. Maybe it stems from her own resentment that Merah was rescued and not Chris, but for some reason, Merah is getting on her nerves. The researcher-turned-field agent is on Affini’s radar for reasons he hasn’t decided to share, though he seems to have no suspicions about her motives.

Stepping foot into the port town, she is treated to the sight of dead bodies, dismembered body parts, and puddles of putrefying zombie goo scattered everywhere. The biohazard appears especially severe, forcing them to put on gas masks as a precaution before they begin scourging the place for hints of human life. They encounter a few herds of ambling monsters, which they summarily dispatch.

“ _ Bravo team checking in, _ ” Parker says over the radio. “ _ We’re clearing out the marketplace. We see some signs of recent human activity nearby… Could be survivors.” _

“You sure?”

“ _ We’re about to find out. _ ”

She smiles despite herself. Parker isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s good and reliable for the everyday stuff. Though it would be nice if Josh were here instead…

One of her men gestures towards the area they are about to enter. It is where most of Charlie and Alpha team went missing. Most of the bullet-ridden buildings are collapsed, like the area was hit by a wrecking ball. Corpses, some of which are dressed in the standard B.S.A.A. garb, litter the area. This doesn’t look good. Hopefully some people from Alpha and Charlie team survived this carnage.

They move in, checking the rubble with practiced ease. After the area is cleared, they bring in sniffer dogs to make sure no survivors have been missed. They don’t find anyone alive.

She is beginning to feel a terrible sinking sensation in her gut, until the radio cracks to life again. 

“ _ We found six survivors, _ ” Parker says, sounding exceptionally laid back in spite of the amazing news. There are few excited calls of “OPA!” in the background. “ _ Four civilians and two of our people, Delacruz and Beck. No obvious signs of infection. We’ll get them an evac. _ ”

“Copy that.” 

She relaxes a little bit. They’ve found some survivors. The mission isn’t a complete loss, even if one of the survivors turned out to be Beck.

If only Chris were among them… She would have rested far easier.

=

Jake wakes up in a plain but large bed. The back of his head has a painful lump on it, courtesy of that sonuvabitch who appeared out of nowhere and started attacking. That guy is  _ not  _ someone he wants to fuck with again.

The room isn’t exactly what he expected to wake up in, with the nice dresser, massive mirror, and a few shelves of books lining one of the walls. He briefly considers some of the worst-case scenarios, then remembers.

“SHIT!” He jumps to his feet to look for--

“Jake!” 

The second he hears the muffled sound of Sherry’s voice from the other side of the wall, he makes a mad dash to the door. It’s unlocked?!

“Jake, is that you?”

“Are you okay?” 

He pauses before running outside, just to make sure he’s not naked or something. He’s wearing his shirt and pants, but his shoes, weapons, and jacket are gone. Shaking his head in annoyance, he leaves the cell (he refuses to call it a bedroom) and enters what appears to be a common room. Sherry is already there. She runs into his arms and he can’t help but gather her into an embrace. When his face and eyes begin to heat up, he lets go and turns away before the waterworks can start. 

They’ve obviously been kidnapped, but the accommodations are much better than expected. The spacious common room contains a large flat-screen TV and a stash of movies, DVDs and some laser disks. A grand piano occupies one corner. Nostalgia tugs at his chest when he sees the pile of music scores. Thumbing through the stack, he recognizes quite a few pieces. 

There is a door that probably leads out of their prison, but it’s locked.

He turns on the TV to see if it’ll tell them anything. Surprisingly, it is able to get a lot of channels. He channel surfs into the midst of a news program. A news anchor is talking animatedly while the words “BREAKING NEWS” flash on the bottom of the screen.

_ “The biohazard incident at St. Jovan Academy in Edonia remains shrouded in mystery. The school was devastated by a viral outbreak on December 24th, two days after the Edonian Liberation Army destroyed the Black Sea port town. Despite their proximity in time and location, the B.S.A.A. has confirmed that these two attacks are separate, and possibly unrelated, bioterror incidents. The ELA insurgency surrendered yesterday, after its attempted coup at the Edonian capital was stopped by UN and B.S.A.A. forces. ELA leadership has repeatedly denied involvement in the biohazard outbreak at St. Jovan Academy. The European Union has pledged to support rebuilding efforts in the aftermath of the civil war. The UN has condemned the attacks as crimes against humanity, calling for the trial of ELA leaders--” _

He turns it off, not wanting another reminder of how much things have gone to hell. Sherry is also silent. If the news is to be believed, only one day has passed since they were fighting for their lives at the school, and today is Christmas. This has got to be one of his most unforgettable Christmas presents ever, to wake up kidnapped by a psycho with unknown motivations.

They wordlessly continue to investigate their prison. Another door leads to an old-fashioned kitchen with dark granite countertops and mahogany cabinets. There is a drawer secured by what looks to be an electronic lock on it with weird symbols instead of numbers. Annoyed, he kicks at it and hears the shifting of something metallic, probably knives. It’s beyond him why anyone would bother to put knives here, only to lock them up in a contraption that looks like a puzzle from a computer game. Maybe he’ll be able to get past the lock and sneak one out somehow. The bastard who knocked them out and brought them here is fast and deadly enough without a weapon. A knife probably won’t be of much use, but he can’t just sit around and do nothing.

They find a full pantry and a few dusty cookbooks. The fridge is well-stocked with meat and produce, as well as a few packaged foods labeled in Russian. Maybe they are somewhere around Russia, or their captor wants them to think so. If they do find a way out, they’ll be at an advantage because they both know Russian. 

They continue to explore the area, finding doors that open into various other rooms, but ultimately no exit that leads outside. It seems like they have been locked into a wing of whatever building they are in. Judging from the view out of the windows, this building extends from the sheer cliffs of a mountain in the middle of nowhere. All he can see are snow-capped mountain ranges. Some of the windows can be opened, but they lead to an indeterminable drop into the chasm below. 

The last room they check holds a dining room set and multiple end tables. There’s even a samovar. It reminds him of the time before Mom got sick, when they would sit around the kitchen table on a winter evening and make tea with her old brass samovar. The thing was at least half a century old, but he always polished it until it shined like new. The one here is electric and has obviously never been used, not like the one Mom had.

“Wonder how much money went into this place,” he grouses as they return to the piano room. 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the blond man who knocked them out. When did he get in here? After a closer look, he realizes this guy is that weirdo from the port town who followed him, Marko, and Lazar before they ditched him in the back alleys. He moves protectively in front of Sherry. She can fend for herself, sure, but he’s not about to let this guy get near her again. 

The weirdo moves over to the piano, looking at them almost proudly. “I hope you enjoyed exploring. I would have given you a tour if you had waited a few minutes more, but it’s not surprising that you’re both curious of your surroundings.” 

The guy’s accent is a strange mishmash of British and American. A British expat who spent too long in the States? He is glad his own accent isn’t that ridiculous. Still, whoever this asshole is, maybe he’s responsible for what happened at the school, for everyone dying...Marko and Lazar… Why else would he be at the school when all hell broke loose, if not to watch his own handiwork? Looks like this guy has resources too. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he is the one who supplied Bindi with the virus. Even if Bindi is a genius, she can’t manufacture a virus when she’s stuck at a boarding school.

“What did you do to Dr. Wright?” Sherry demands angrily before he can warn her to keep quiet. The creepy guy is completely at ease, as if expecting this question.

“The one I got the radio from? He should be fine. He was attempting to lead some children to safety, and I locked them in a secure room. Last I’ve heard, he was found alive and safe with them.”

“Like we’re gonna trust that,” Jake says in his most obnoxious tone, trying to draw the weirdo’s attention away from Sherry.

“You can get the news, if you’d like to see for yourselves.” The man motions to the TV, then goes to the piano and presses on a few random keys. Jake grimaces - the thing is out of tune.

“I’m hoping to keep you both entertained for a bit, but suffice to say, I want you both to be comfortable. Sherry, why don’t you fill Jake in on who I am?”

The weirdo is disturbingly interested in them. Is he some kind of pervert? He better not try anything. If this guy touches a hair on Sherry’s head… Hold on. How does Sherry even know this bastard? Why is it important for him to know who this bastard is? And... “How do you know my name?” 

He isn’t carrying any identifying information. At the port town, he kept a low profile, so there’s no way this guy could have found anything from snooping around back then. 

“Magda was a fine woman. News of her death was most unwelcome.” The man pauses, as if for dramatic effect. “I only recently found out that she had a son.”

Oh  **fuck** no _. _

“The hell did you say?”

The man looks pleased by how quickly he is catching on. This psycho can’t possibly be the man that Magda Muller loved, the father that she swore he’d meet one day. What did he do to pull the wool over her eyes?

The final message Mom left him asked him to not hate his father, and to forgive her for leaving. There’s nothing to forgive. It’s his own fault for not getting back home in time to help her. But this man who waltzed into an infected school and kidnapped them for whatever sick reason?

Father or not, he is  _ never  _ going to forgive this man for leaving Mom to die. He doesn’t feel any uncontrollable urges to kill this guy yet, but he suspects he’ll get there in no time, especially if Sherry is harmed in any way.

The weirdo plays a few more clashing notes on the piano. He wants to strangle this goddamn bastard - first for toying with him, then for getting such a sorry fucking piano that is so out of tune! If Mom were here, she’d probably hate him too for being completely tone deaf. 

Sherry shifts behind him, then says, “Mr. Wesker, why are we here? Where are the others?”

“You’re here to be safe. After what nearly happened with Simmons, not to mention the backstabbers hiding in the B.S.A.A., I don’t want you to be under their influence any longer. Your father barely forgave me for leaving Umbrella. He’d never forgive me for leaving you again. I was far too self-absorbed back then, to not have found you earlier.” 

Something resembling melancholy flickers acrosses Wesker’s face.  

Jake can all but  _ taste  _ Sherry’s discomfort, and makes a mental note to never bring up her family again. Wesker remains oblivious, as dense as he is tone deaf. 

“As for the others, you needn’t worry about them. They are all being taken care of.”

“I want to see Chris,” she demands.

Wesker tilts his head in curiosity, but with his eyes obscured by the sunglasses, his expressionless face gives nothing else away. The B.S.A.A. agents are probably dead by now...

“I can bring him once he’s presentable, if it will ease your worries. Or you can see the other two. The younger one is quite worried about you.”

He is honestly surprised that Wesker kept the B.S.A.A. agents alive, though for what end? As much as he wants to see Mr. B.S.A.A. from before, he’s hesitant about pushing the issue too hard when he has no clue about Wesker’s motives.

Their cage is gilded. For whatever reason, his supposed father wants him and Sherry comfortable. He can only hope that the psycho’s “hospitality” extends to the others and that they’re really okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets to see Piers and Finn, and hopes to help them however he can. Meanwhile, Enrique Affini gets something that might help his cause...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *sees reviews*  
> ...*updates*  
> Maybe I should read those reviews...

Chris moans in exhaustion at the continual strain on his arms, which have been forced to hold his weight for what feels like hours. He is hanging by his wrists, far enough from the floor to prevent his feet from finding any purchase. Blood is dripping from welts on his torso and legs. Even slight movements aggravate the injuries. He whimpers at the soft touch of gloved hands on him. 

His whole body hurts.

He’s lost track of how long he’s been here. It can’t possibly be more than a day or two, but he is unsure after blacking out multiple times, the last time being when Wesker had pushed on a painful wound until he passed out. The changes in position every time he wakes up - from the soft bed, to being tied face-up onto a hard wooden surface and brutally beaten, to being suspended in midair by his cramping arms - are as disorienting as the time he’s lost. 

Something lashes into his hip, causing more pain. It’s hard to concentrate.

**Focusing isn’t your strong suit anyway. You’re only ever--**

He needs to stop thinking like this. He needs to see the others, if they’re still alive... If they aren’t, what happened to them? He can’t remember much, but he remembers being...upset...about Finn? ...Did he kill Finn?

**If you did, whose fault is that? Your own, you pathetic failure.**

Fingers dig into his wounds again. Pain stops any further thought. 

When his vision stops swimming, he notices that Wesker has moved in front of him. A hand grips his chin roughly. 

**Open your mouth and take his cock. You can’t even do that right.**

“Chris.” 

Wesker’s voice brings him back. Red eyes look into his own, searching for something but not finding it. His captor looks either worried or displeased at his inability to focus. He can’t really tell. 

“You’ve been asked for by Sherry and her friend, and also by the two young men who were working with you.”

“L-liar.” His voice is barely louder than a whisper. His throat feels raw.

“I wouldn’t lie about that, my dear,” Wesker says, the grip on his jaw becoming painful when he tries to pull away. “I should keep you away from them, like you were kept from me. But Sherry looked so upset, and one of your men was hurt by the traitor on your team.”

Someone was hurt by a traitor… There is something important about this, but he can’t remember. His thoughts are a confused jumble that slip through his grasp like sand. His vision is beginning to go out of focus again.

“Should I let you see them? Are you going to be good?”

**Are you going to be good for your Captain?**

“What’s your answer, Chris?” Wesker lets go of his jaw, which has gone numb, and lightly slaps his cheek.

_ I need to see them. I need to make sure they’re ok. If I’m good...if… _

There is another jab into one of the welts. His body jerks against the ropes, but there’s nowhere to go. He needs to see them, needs to make sure they’re safe. He needs to get through this. 

“I’ll be good,” he rasps, going limp when the pressure on the wound finally ceases. The ropes stringing him up are suddenly released, sending him tumbling down to the hard floor in a heap. Wesker removes the ropes around his arms and legs, which begin to cramp and sting as circulation returns. He wants to clench his hands into fists, but only manage a weak twitch of his fingers.

Wesker smiles down at him. “Well then, let's get you presentable, shall we?”

His face burns in humiliation when he is pulled up by one of the rings on the collar around his neck. The other rings clink softly against the metal on the edge, as if mocking his weakness. Wesker put the collar on him earlier, while he was being strung up and beaten. The sick bastard was probably planning to tie a leash to it and drag him around like a dog, but ended up getting distracted and went back to beating him. 

His knees hurt badly. It’s painful to even bend them. Wesker tsks in annoyance at his inability to walk. He is pulled towards the tiled area that is probably there for whatever sex-in-the-bathroom fantasies Wesker wants to act out. Standing is impossible after the punishment he sustained. He collapses into an awkward pile the second he’s released. 

“Are your knees giving you trouble again?”

He tiredly struggles to get to his feet despite the pain, but his knees, the left one especially, refuse to hold his weight. 

Wesker hums and walks off, clearly unconcerned about his capabilities for escape at the moment. He wants to prove the bastard wrong, but pain lances up his legs the more he tries to stand.

**That’ll make it easy enough to stay bent over and on the ground like a--**

He shuts his eyes, trying to stop this train of thought. He can’t be thinking up stuff he doesn’t need.

There is the squeak of a tap being turned, then cold water is spilling onto him. The open wounds burn and throb from the water, making his breath hitch. Wesker’s voice chills him more than the cold water.

“I suppose we can end for the day, especially if more will ruin your knees. I’d hate for you to have any lasting damage.”

The hose is positioned over his head. A hand runs through his hair. He closes his eyes when water gets into them. 

“I’ll have to be more careful with you in the future.”

He stays quiet, not sure if speaking will get him hurt again, or worse, change Wesker’s mind about letting him see the others. 

Fatigue, mental and physical, is catching up to him. He is so tired. 

Wesker’s hand is on his torso and limbs, gently washing him. The open wounds don’t hurt as much now, numbed by the cold. The reddish water swirling down the drain catches his interest. He watches it with half-lidded eyes, mesmerized.

The water is eventually turned off. Wesker briskly dries him with a soft towel, then sprays something onto his skin that causes his wounds to sting. He catches sight of the first aid spray before Wesker puts it away. A bottle of water is pressed into his trembling fingers, making him realize how unbelievably thirsty he is. He drinks without hesitation. The cool water tastes sweet to his parched mouth and soothes his sore throat somewhat.

“We’re far from done with your punishment, Chris. I’m sure you know that already. But you will be permitted to see the others. There’s no need to make them suffer for your misdeeds.”

When he doesn’t respond, Wesker grabs a ring on the collar again and hauls him out of the tiled area. Still unable to stand, his knees give out and his skin scrapes against the floor. Annoyed by the delay, Wesker pulls him up higher by the collar, then grabs his bicep to half-lift, half-drag him to the bed like a wayward child. He tenses in fear when he is set on the bed and pushed onto his back, but Wesker walks away without doing anything further to him. The lack of new pain relaxes him enough that he starts to sink into unconsciousness before he can try to sit up, the soft sounds in the background lulling him into an exhausted calm. 

He wakes to the feeling of hands on his neck. Frightened, he tries to scramble away until he realizes that the hands are only unclasping the collar from his neck. Wesker places the collar on a side table and looks at him, as if expecting something. Remembering that he is supposed behave, he forces himself to calm down and shoots Wesker an imploring look, hoping that he will still be allowed to see the others. The bastard smirks, likely having planned for the whole thing to play out this way.

“Get ready, if you’re able.”

A pair of shorts, drawstring pants, and a cream-colored shirt are handed to him. It’s a struggle, but he manages to get the pieces of clothing on, flinching when the material pulls at the welts and cuts. He tries not to look at his legs. Underneath the welts and bruising, both knee joints look and feel swollen. His time in the Air Force wasn’t kind to his knees, and his subsequent adventures wore them out further. Earlier, when Wesker was hitting him with a stick, he had managed to bite back most of his noises, but wasn’t able to hold back a scream when a strike landed just below the edge of his kneecap. After that, Wesker paid extra attention to his knees and made him scream with every hit, until he lost his voice.

His other wounds still hurt, but not as badly as before. How long did he sleep for?

Wesker brings over a wheelchair, one with straps for securing the wrists and ankles, and deposits him onto the seat. Its previous purpose was no doubt to transport the other “guests” of whatever this place used to be.

“I’m sure you’d much rather limp along, but we’ve got a schedule to keep. I’d hate for our time together to be interrupted for longer than necessary.”

He does his best to pull himself together. He’s going to see the others and make sure Wesker isn’t lying about them being alive.  If they aren’t hurt, then at least  _ they  _ can get out. He can try to escape with them, but that would make Wesker come after them. He needs to deal with Wesker permanently if he wants himself and the others to be truly safe. This is what has to be done.

Another concern that’s now gnawing at him is the mercenary who was with Sherry. It seems like Wesker brought the kid here alive. Why? He understands why Sherry is alive, as Wesker was close to her father back before everything went to hell, and may still harbor some kind of affection for her. A random mercenary though?

The kid’s name is Jake… He never asked for a last name, too preoccupied with keeping them alive at the time, but the mercenaries at the town told Hosea that Jake Muller was at the school… 

_ Oh no... _

Wesker has his son now. Ideas of what the maniac is going do to the poor kid run wild in his head before he manages to tamp them down. If Wesker tries anything, he will have to stop it by being a good enough distraction. Regardless, from what little he’s seen of Jake, the kid won’t take anything that happens to him sitting down.

**Not like you.**

The dark, accusatory thoughts are starting to remind him of his family for some reason. His parents threw him out years ago. The last time they talked to him was when his uncle called to warn him that if he even  _ thought  _ of showing up for Dad’s funeral, there’d be hell to pay. Luckily for him, he and Jill were sent to Russia that day to investigate B.O.W. activity, which he was forced to focus on.

His family probably still doesn’t know or care that he risked his life to stop the final remnants of Umbrella Corp. When Claire found out, she had looked at him proudly.

“ _ You did more on that day than those people ever did in all their lives combined. _ ”

It’s a nice sentiment, but it didn’t keep his team safe, didn’t even keep  _ his own sister  _ safe. Now he is here, being wheeled around by the terrorist he’s sworn to kill, after promising to be “good.”

**A lot of good you’ve done, brought to heel at the mere promise of seeing the ones you let down again.**

The hallways that Wesker takes him down are maze-like and more confusing than the ones during his previous capture. They stop at a window that overlooks a large room. Piers is on a hospital bed. Finn is sitting nearby and looking worried. He automatically pulls against the restraints of the chair, before remembering that he is supposed to behave.

“The traitor on your team hit him instead of you, the intended target. You’ll have to thank him. He’s unlikely to be able to use that shoulder again.” 

_ Traitor _ … Piers had talked to him about that, before they departed for this doomed mission to Edonia. Affini had apparently assigned people in Bravo and Echo team to keep an eye on him for some unknown purpose. Piers also suspected someone in Alpha team to be serving that same purpose. At the time, he assumed that Affini probably just wanted people to subdue him if he lost control or if his loyalty to the B.S.A.A. came under question, which didn’t really bother him and he told Piers so. Not wanting Jill and the other higher-ups to hover over him like he was a fragile teacup, he forbade Piers from telling anyone and proceeded to do nothing. Piers had exploded and yelled at him for giving up, all of which fell on deaf ears. In the end, doing nothing turned out to be a huge mistake. Not further investigating the matter has led to other people getting hurt instead. Piers is severely injured because he once again failed to do anything. He even ended up hurting Finn...

**How fitting. A traitor for a traitor to nature.**

Wesker unlocks the door and wheels him into the room. Finn jumps up, the chain around his leg shackles clanking loudly. The kid looks haggard, with bags under his eyes, but appears otherwise unharmed. Piers is in a worse state, lying unconscious and pale on the hospital bed. His right shoulder is wrapped, patches of red seeping through the white gauze. The IV in his arm is hooked up to the remainder of a unit of blood.

“Captain!” Finn shouts. 

Chris shakes his head minutely in warning.  _ Not  _ now _ , not while he’s here. _

If Wesker sees, hopefully he’ll take it to mean that Chris is being “good.” 

Piers’s eyelids flutter briefly. He looks pleadingly at Wesker. He can’t let Piers die. He can’t let them be hurt anymore than they already are.

“He doesn’t look too good, though that is inevitable when you have a traitor in your midst,” Wesker says while typing something into a panel on a cabinet, which opens to reveal vials of medications, IV fluids, and various medical supplies. 

“I’ll pick you up in a little while, Chris. I suggest using your time effectively.”

He warily watches Wesker leave the room. The second the man is out of sight, Finn rushes over and nervously undoes the restraints. 

“I can’t stand right now...” He helps to pull the rest of the restraints off as soon as one arm is free. Wheeling over to the bed, he checks Piers’s wrists and ankles. The pulse is palpable, even in the right wrist, but it’s too fast. The skin doesn’t feel feverish or clammy.

“He seems stable for the moment, but let’s get some fluids into him. How has he been doing?”

“I don’t know...” Finn says, “I woke up a few hours ago and just got moved here. I was somewhere else initially.” The rookie shifts uneasily. “The bullet wound might be getting infected. I don’t know how long we were out.”

He knows the feeling, but when Wesker’s eyes turn yellow like that, he doesn’t wait more than a day before taking what he wants.

”Can’t be more than a day.”

“S-sir?”

“Trust me. It can’t be more than that.” 

He goes to the cabinet of supplies. Finn follows, slightly slower due to being hobbled by the shackles around his ankles. He doesn’t have any formal medical training, but he’s had to pick up a few things over the years in order to survive. If Dan or Grif were here, Piers would be in better hands. The two are...were good combat medics. 

_ Hosea would be able to give Finn some help, more than I can. _

He grabs a few bags of saline and an IV kit. Finn helps to take the items to the bedside. They hang up the IV saline to replace the now-empty bag of blood. Now they have to put the second IV in, check the shoulder wound, and make sure there are no other injuries.

Piers doesn’t look ready to wake up, but at least he seems to be in no acute danger.

“Ok, let’s get this done.”

=

Enrique pinches the bridge of his nose as he looks over the reports. They have managed to use Daylight, the cure for the t-virus, to create a treatment for the infected townspeople. The problem is, the t-virus variant that the ELA unleashed in Edonia is able to enter a dormant stage, resulting in persistent infection even after treatment. It’s unclear if this means the infected person will require a lifetime of quarantine.  

Then there is the school… God... They are lucky that some children survived, but the slaughter in the chapel, with the evidence of the students’ efforts to defend themselves... How do they tell the families…

Gabe slowly steps into the office, clearly bearing news he’s not sure how to break. 

“Merah Biji is requesting to meet with you, Director,” his assistant announces more hesitantly than usual. “It’s...about Redfield and the others who went missing at the school.”

“What about them?” From Biji’s debriefing, the encounter with Wesker ended terribly.

“She wants to provide additional information...that she saw Redfield working with Wesker, and that he was possibly...complicit...in the deaths of Finn Macauley and Piers Nivans.”

“Complicit? What does she mean by that?” The last time they spoke, she only said that Wesker and Redfield were in the helicopter when it took off, but did not provide much detail at the time, as she was injured and receiving medical treatment. 

“She is asking to speak to us in Valentine’s absence, given Valentine’s refusal to recuse herself on matters regarding Redfield despite her obvious bias towards him.” 

That is true, but it seems almost underhanded to ask for an audience while Valentine is away on a mission to find survivors. He pushes it out of his mind. It is unlikely that Biji has any devious intentions. The former virologist has proven herself at the school, and with Wright alive and safe, there is every chance to corroborate her statements at a later time. If what she has to say is proven to be true, then it can at least confirm that Redfield has been a danger all along. After all, it is why he assigned her to Alpha team keep an eye on Redfield in the first place.

He nods to Gabe. “Good. Schedule the meeting for 1600. What’s the last report from Valentine and the others in Edonia?”

“Positive, so far. They have found two survivors from Alpha team, as well as four civilians, at the port town. We’ll have more information from Alpha team soon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherry and Jake bond. Chris gets to see Piers and Finn. Things don't end well for Chris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...um...how to put this...
> 
> ...I f'ed up. I blame it on the fact I was going to work and just said "Oh, yes, Part 3, that's next" and not that I hadn't put up the actual part. so yeah. My bad.
> 
> Lullite is doing a great job of helping me and reminded me that I skipped a chapter. Thanks so much to her.

“Again.”

Sherry hits the piano key as instructed while Jake adjusts something inside the piano.  He gives her a thumbs up and moves on to the other strings. 

After she demanded to see Chris, Wesker had agreed and left through a door that locked behind him. To get some idea of what’s happening outside of here, she and Jake had watched more TV, which is able to get the news and many other channels. The news programs seem authentic, and indicate that they’ve been here for two days. The fact that they were so close to being rescued from the infested school, only to end up kidnapped, is gnawing at her.

“I didn’t know you can tune pianos.” She goes for what she hopes is a neutral topic, though it may end up being a minefield as well.  

“Yeah, well, my mom played a lot. We had a piano once and she taught me how to play and tune it. Glad I got the music genes from her, instead of taking after that psycho.” 

Rummaging around the tuning kit they found, he pulls out a tuning fork and huffs in surprise. “He doesn’t even have the right tools for this. You can use a freakin’ guitar tuner if you need to, but good thing I don’t need one.” 

He goes back to fiddling around the inside of the piano. She obligingly hits keys whenever he asks.

Her mind wanders and she remembers something that makes her giggle. He looks over at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Dad said Mr. Wesker’s tone-deaf.”

“No shit he’s tone-deaf.”

“Once, I was learning how to play the recorder for school. Mom and Dad were working late… Mr. Wesker was babysitting me. I was practicing a song and asked him to let me know if he hears a mistake, but he could never tell, even when I knew it sounded off. Dad came back to us arguing about it and he couldn’t stop laughing, something about how Mr. Wesker could never play the Moonlight Sonata right. Mr. Wesker got upset and said he was fine at everything else and didn’t see how music was that important.” 

Jake seems to brood on the story.

“Mom was a prodigy, one of the best pianist in her generation. She taught me as much as she could.” 

He gently puts the piano cover back in place. Sitting down at the bench with her, he begins to play a complicated piece of music from memory. His movements are smooth and practiced, like he’s played all his life. She claps enthusiastically when he finishes.

“Dunno why they have a piano here. I’m guessing they want to look sophisticated or something.”

“Spencer chose it,” Mr. Wesker’s voice comes from behind them. Jake jumps up into a defensive stance.

“I never asked Spencer why,” he continues, as if it should be obvious who this Spencer person is, “but then again, we were not cultivated with music as a top priority.” He looks at Jake approvingly. “You worked quickly on that.”

Jake sets his mouth in a hard line and says nothing.

“Not a lot else to do,” she replies, not particularly inclined to talk to him either until he stops being so secretive…

“Regrettably, what you have is the best I can offer for now. The rest of this mansion was built to conduct research, and I have no way of changing that.” 

Mr. Wesker picks up the TV remote and changes the channel to a news program about the work the B.S.A.A. is doing in Edonia.

“Well, it appears they aren’t useless after all. As for Chris, he’s taking care of his men. He can visit after that’s done.” 

“You enjoy watching your handiwork so much? That why you left Mom to die? Ran off to watch her suffer from afar instead of staying?” Jake grounds out with barely restrained rage.

Seeing the two of them next to each other, she realizes that there is very little of Mr. Wesker in Jake beyond some facial features. Jake’s expression is more open and honest than his father’s, and he is lively with his red hair and acerbic wit, whereas Mr. Wesker looks rather washed out with the blond hair and pale skin. Plus Jake’s lips are a bit fuller and… No, wait. Jake’s kind, dependable, and a friend she can count on. Now isn’t the time to be going head over heels!  

“Your mother awed a whole room full of scientists and investors with the music she performed. Out of all who coveted the jewel that she was, she chose to approach me and I gave her the attention she deserved. I might not have been able to appreciate the music to the same extent, but her talent and passion for it was evident. She was one of the best in her generation.”

Jake looks lost. He remains near the piano, like it’s presence is grounding him. 

“Why didn’t you marry her?”

“She didn’t want to at the time, and went back to Edonia. I never knew she had a child until less than a year ago. I would have gone with her when she left, but chaos was brewing in Umbrella. I saw the signs of failure and planned to leave. I encouraged others to come with me, but no one did. When the timeline for my departure was pushed up, I was forced to re-evaluate my options. Much happened in the half a year that crippled Umbrella. In less than five years, the company was dissolved.”

“Then why did the ELA have stuff from some group called Neo-Umbrella?” Jake snarls, angry again. 

Mr. Wesker shakes his head, as if mystified by the question himself. 

“Why indeed. I’ve been busy, so I have not looked into what was happening at the town in as much detail as I would like. However, I did procure an infected individual from the town and completed preliminary testing on him. He is infected by what appears to be a modified strain of the t-virus.”

She is glad to have gotten some information about what was going on at the town. The virus at the school must be a different strain entirely, since it definitely has no relation to the t-virus, but that means…

She takes a chance, just to see how he will react. “You gave Bindi the virus. You infected the school.”

“I know your father’s work, and your former guardian was not careful with what he obtained from you on false pretenses. I simply continued what your father started.”

She swallows, shocked by this outright admission. 

“Why did you complete this virus?”

He looks impassive and enigmatic. “To stabilize a different virus in another test subject. It’s not quite optimized, but it has worked remarkably thus far.”

“But...but how can you just unleash it on a school?”

“I picked it for a testing ground. Its own failures resulted in what happened.”

She punches him. He could have avoided it easily, judging by what she has seen of his speed at the school, but he lets the punch land and turns his face with the blow, presumably so that she doesn’t hurt her wrist. His sunglasses clatter hard along the floor. Jake runs over, face twisted in fury. Wesker catches Jake’s blow without having to look, then opens his eyes.

She takes an involuntary step back.  

She remembers Albert Wesker’s eyes to be a cool, soothing blue that he usually kept hidden behind sunglasses. She saw them often as a child, and had often tried to find the right color of paint to replicate it.

The eyes looking at them now are red with slitted pupils. 

He lets Jake go and casually picks up the sunglasses.

“I’m sure you’re upset about my use of William’s virus, as well as what happened at the school. I don’t regret my actions. It not only allowed me to ensure your safety, but also allowed me to retrieve my point man.” 

She vaguely remembers hearing him use the term before, a long time ago, but is too shellshocked to remember the context. 

“I’ve given you both much to think about. It’ll be best for Chris to visit another day.”

He’s out the door before they can recover. Jake curses and kicks at the door in a rage. 

She struggles to not think back to old times.

_ The voice was her father’s, and she wanted to go to him, to make sure the monster that’s following her didn’t get him. It might hurt him, it might-- _

_ “Daddy?” she called out, half asleep. Mr. Wesker was carrying her up the stairs to her room.   _

_ “I phoned them.” _

_ Her parents weren’t home. She buried her face in his shirt.  _

_ “Get some rest, Sherry. They’ll be here when you wake. I promise.” _

_ She shifted in his arms, peeking out at him.  _

_ “You’ll be fine, Sherry. Your parents will come home soon.” _

_ He kept his promise. They came home and spent two wonderful days with her. Then they were gone again, and he was there. _

She buries her head in Jake’s chest. Wesker is clearly infected with something that has made him inhuman. For years, she has known at an intellectual level that Wesker is no longer the same person who was so kind to her, the one who participated in her tea parties and imaginary adventures whenever she asked instead of leaving her to play on her own, the one who stayed with her to watch movies and drink hot cocoa. It’s hard enough to reconcile the person she loved and trusted with this remorseless mass murderer, but to come face-to-face with him after he has admitted to yet another atrocity… 

“I got you.” Jake says quietly as he holds her.

=

It doesn’t take long to figure out that Piers doesn’t have the bullet in him, but the damage looks severe. He is probably never going to be able to use that arm like before... The only saving grace is that the shoulder injury has been preliminarily treated. Piers is stable and recovering, even if he is still unconscious.

Chris winces when Finn tries to bend his leg to check the extent of the injury.  

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He manages a weak smile as Finn gingerly helps to set his leg back down. “Not your fault.” 

Finn is frowning as he looks over the medical supplies they’ve taken out. Chris was initially hesitant to use the supplies on himself, wanting to save them for Piers, but after the blood from his wounds began to show through his shirt, Finn had pushed the issue. The old scars from...before were no doubt blatantly visible when Finn was cleaning and bandaging the wounds on his torso, but thankfully Finn didn’t ask questions. 

All the better. He wants to put Piers and Finn at ease. They need to be calm and level-headed in case there is an opening to get out of here. Questions about what Wesker is doing to him will only make things more complicated. Having to lie about what was going on would only cause additional strain, and possibly give Wesker something to use against them. It is better if they just avoid the topic all together.

“Sir...if…”

“Don’t fight him, Finn. Not now. We need to make sure Piers is ok.”

“Don’t use me as an excuse,” Piers says, his voice hoarse from disuse. He must have been awake and eavesdropping for a while.

“Piers!” Finn nearly trips over the leg shackles in his hurry to get to Pier’s bedside.

Chris feels the knot in his chest relax. Piers is awake. Piers will be ok. He looks Piers over again, just in case.

“Who shot you? Wesker drugged us. My memory’s spotty...”

“Merah took a shot...at you...I think, but hit me instead...”

_ Merah _ did this? Her infectious smile and eagerness for teamwork don’t add up with what he is hearing, but if Wesker didn’t shoot Piers, the only person who could have made this shot is her... She was the only other person at the school.

“The two survivors were knocked out and in the helicopter by the time I got there,” Piers continues. “You...you two ok?”

He wants to say yes so that Piers wouldn’t worry, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to answer. 

Finn shifts uncomfortably. “The Captain is… The man who kidnapped us brought him in. He said he’ll be back later.”

Piers looks concerned. Chris shakes his head. “You focus on healing, Piers.”

“Captain…”

“I know how you feel about it, Piers, I do, but don’t endanger yourselves. I’d rather you both come out of this alive.”

Piers gasps the second he tries to sit up, head falling back in defeat as he breathes through the pain. 

Chris can feel Wesker getting closer. He glances over at the door.

“Piers, Finn, it’s better if you stay here for right now. In case anyone comes looking. You never know.”

“I hate this,” Piers mutters.

“Sir...is your knee ok?” Finn’s question distracts him slightly, even though Wesker’s presence is thrumming in the back of his mind.

“It’s better, but maybe I shouldn’t put too much weight on it yet.” 

He tries to move his legs a bit, but his knees still hurt. Gritting his teeth, he keeps himself from from making a sound. It’s doubtful he’ll get far on foot.  

“You need to rest, Piers. We can’t leave.”

If Wesker is listening in, he’ll probably be happy with what he’s hearing. 

“Wesker said that Sherry and Jake are somewhere here.” He gives Piers and Finn a meaningful look that hopefully isn’t visible through the surveillance cameras.  _ We need to find them and get them to safety. _

“You shouldn’t…” Piers huffs out a sigh, looking furious. “Damn it, Chris, I can’t...I can’t just…”

“Piers, you need to recuperate. We all do. We can’t get out of here yet.”

Piers glares at him stubbornly, though he seems to figure what Chris is getting at between the lines. 

Finn rejoins them with more medical supplies. “There isn’t a lot more I can do for your injuries, Captain. I’m sorry... Here are more supplies for later, Piers.”

“Thanks, Finn.”

“It’s the only thing I’m good for right now,” Finn mutters despondently. Chris tries to smile at him in what is hopefully a reassuring way, all the while hoping that the buzzing feeling of Wesker’s presence will disappear. It doesn’t and instead gets closer. 

“Don’t be so down on yourself, Finn. You’re the useful one who can still move around,” Piers points out tiredly. “At least your arm isn’t fucked up.”

Chris reaches out and squeezes Piers’s good hand. The sharpshooter looks worn out, but returns the gesture. 

They are interrupted by the sound of the door opening and his senses going haywire. Finn moves between Piers and the door, pale and shaking like he’s about to fall over. 

The person responsible for their misery enters suddenly, giving the three of them a cursory glance before advancing purposefully towards Chris. Ignoring Finn and Piers, Wesker takes the wheelchair and pushes Chris out the door. He manages one last look back at Piers and Finn before the door closes. 

When they have moved a distance away and further down the hallway, the wheelchair comes to a sudden stop. A hand grips his hair and tilts his head up so that he is looking up at Wesker, who is no longer wearing the sunglasses.

“What did you tell them, Chris?”

“To stay,” he blurts out, his gut clenching in fear.  _ Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them.  _ “They don’t have a chance to escape. I told them to stay.”  _ Leave them alone! _

The red eyes search his for a long moment before Wesker leans closer. He is in a state of near-panic that Wesker is about try something here. The others can’t see how weak he is, how much of a hold their captor has over him…

“Do you expect me to believe that, Chris?”

He doesn’t, but he wants Wesker to.

**You’re so eager for his approval. And his cock.**

He swallows thickly, trembling as he braces himself. Wesker grabs his wrist and proceeds to tie it back down. Terror for what is going to happen to him suddenly becomes too overwhelming to tamp down. Lashing out in panic, he forces his legs to move despite the pain and stumbles out of the wheelchair. Wesker grabs him, but he somehow manages to break free and scrambles away, eyes darting frantically in all directions. He needs to get out of here! 

He lands another hit on Wesker, who grunts but recovers instantly. The psycho grabs his wrist and pulls him closer. He fights back tooth and nail, trying to get away. It feels like he’s finally able to use his legs again, even if pain continues to lance through them, but he has to keep going… 

In the end, he is too weak. It doesn’t take long for him to be trapped in a chokehold and secured against a solid chest, held too closely for his attacks to gain momentum.

“Are you so determined to lie to me about everything, Chris?” Wesker whispers almost intimately in his ear. He is horrified to feel a twinge of longing in his traitorous body. “Your body is mine to do with as I please, and yet you refuse to accept the facts. I’ll only stand it for so long.” The smooth voice turns sinister. “Your two comrades will suffer if you don’t start telling me the truth. Isn’t that how the B.S.A.A. works? One link fails, and they all fail?” 

Fear for his two teammates begins to mount, sapping his will to fight. His heart pounds erratically and his body begins to shake again. He can’t let them get hurt anymore! He can’t let them fall victim to this madman’s whims like he had.

Convinced that he is done resisting for now, Wesker turns him around so that they are face to face.

“You seem to have that look in your eyes again.” A hand tilts his chin up. “Are you so defiant for their sake, my point man?”

“I told you they’re staying, they are! Don’t touch them. They’ve been through enough...”

Wesker starts to haul him towards the wheelchair, reminding him of what is coming next -- being beaten and used nonstop until he breaks completely. He loses it again. Thrashing out of the grip, he lands a few blows that would have done more if he weren’t so exhausted and unfocused. He is a lost cause, but he needs to keep Wesker’s attention on himself. Maybe that will give the others a chance to escape.

**_Because that worked out so well at the school?_ ** **All you want is an excuse to be the center of his attention.**

**Slut.**

Wesker snatches him by the throat, though it only makes him fight harder with reckless abandon. He claws at the exposed skin on Wesker’s arm. What does it matter if Wesker kills him now, if the alternative is endless torment and humiliation? If he dies, it will be one less thing for the others to worry about when they make their escape. When he was on his last legs at the school, he had hoped to die fighting, but instead ended up a plaything once again. Maybe this time Wesker  _ will  _ kill him and end his misery, with how brutal the punishments have been over the past few hours, or is it days? It’s a selfish wish, but the cracks are becoming too huge and he’s giving in too fast. He can’t live like this. He _ won’t. _

This time, Wesker looks more surprised at his disregard for his own safety, but there is no time to think about the implications. He needs to fight for as long as possible. If he gets far enough away, maybe he can call for outside help before it gets harder, before he’s taken again. He can try to buy the others some time. Enough time, not like--

He is stunned by a blow that is too quick for him to track. When he can move again, he has been restrained to the wheelchair. Wesker is looming over him, teeth bared aggressively. The reptilian eyes are glowing in rage.

“You want to be hurt so badly, Chris? Lie to me one more time, and I’ll make sure your men know how thoroughly you belong to me.” 

He shivers involuntarily at the threat, hopelessness creeping in now that he’s once more trapped and at Wesker’s mercy. His body goes limp in resignation.

“For now, I’ll make sure you fully appreciate the consequences of what you have just done. Try this again, and your men will suffer as well.”

As Wesker wheels him further into the facility, he tries to put up a defiant front but fails miserably.

“You’re mine, Chris. Time for another lesson to remind you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill speaks to some of the survivors, trying to figure out what to do. Jake and Sherry work to help Chris, and manage something.

Jill walks down the hallway of the B.S.A.A. medical facility. It is much busier than usual, with the recent influx of injured survivors and quarantined individuals. She should talk to Dr. Wright soon, though last she heard he is still recovering from pneumonia. He and the children had been trapped in a maintenance room by the “scary blond man.” The cold had quickly set in, and they were lucky to have been rescued before any of them suffered hypothermia.

Merah is also at the hospital. She should make a complete recovery, according to the medical staff.  

“Oh fuck, not you again,” Beck whines as she walks into the hospital room. She barely manages to not roll her eyes. Maybe she’ll write him up for insubordination. Next to him, Jules salutes her in a playful manner. “Hey boss. Any news?”

“Not really… Has Merah visited you two?” she asks, moving away from Beck, who visibly relaxes. She has never done anything to him, but with the bullshit he pulled right before the mission to Edonia, it sure is a tempting thought. Beck is less mouthy, at least for now, probably because so many of his teammates are dead.

Given his part in ending Chris’s Air Force career and the recent loss of Alpha team, she wonders if Beck ever considered his actions to be a potential contributor to his teams’ problems. His ego probably wouldn’t fully allow it, but hopefully he’s learned something by now.

“She hasn’t gotten around to visiting us,” Jules says dejectedly. It’s unclear if he is more upset about Merah’s personal absence or the absence of the large amounts of food she always has on her person. “Girl’s good when she’s doing her own thing, but at this rate, Beck will a better teammate than her.”

“Oh fuck off,” Beck grumbles. “I’m not in the fuckin’ mood.”

“We should get that dragon nurse to come shave your balls then, see how much of a mood you’re in afterwards.”

“I swear to God, Delacruz, I will stand up just to kick your ass if you keep this up, broken leg be damned.”

“Both of you shut it,” she orders, tiring of their middle school antics. It must be their coping mechanism, albeit a very primitive one. “We need to collect a full affidavit of what you saw. Merah has already provided hers.” 

She ignores their looks of obvious disbelief. Of the Alpha team members, Merah and Beck are the two with the the most write-ups. In Merah’s case, it is because she is always late with paperwork, though by the time she turns them in, they are always perfectly done and extremely detailed. Grif is...was runner-up for late paperwork. Beck has the write-ups for his interpersonal issues.

“Any other news we should know?” Jules asks.

She shakes her head. 

Her phone beeps. Excusing herself, she heads out to take the call.

The call delivers more bad news. She wants to leave right now to sort it out, but Jules and Beck deserve to know… She returns to the hospital room after giving herself another few minutes to digest the news. The two men are looking at her expectantly, with varying degrees of concern and curiosity on their faces. It is strange to see that look on Beck. The man has caused Chris so much grief. How will he respond to this?

“Merah’s report has been reviewed. It seems you three are the only confirmed survivors of Alpha team.”

“Dios Mío...” Jules mutters. Beck gapes.

“Additional information has apparently come to light...suggesting that Chris was...involved the deaths of Piers and Finn.” 

“BULLSHIT!”

The shout sends at least one nurse running in to see what’s wrong, though it’s just Beck going into conniptions.  

“Redfield didn’t kill his teammates! If that sonuvabitch will pull  _ my  _ ass out of the fire, there is no fuckin’ way on God’s green earth that he’d kill Nivans or McCauley. Those three are attached at the hip. Now get me something to write my report with!”

“Me too!” Jules jumps in. The long string of Spanish that comes out of his mouth afterwards must be very colorful, if the scolding from the Spanish-speaking nurse going down the hall is any indication.

She is honestly shocked that Beck is so willing to come to Chris’s defense, despite the bad blood between them. Hopefully his and Jules’s report will reveal something. The question now, though, is what to make of Merah’s report.

It is a well-known fact that Wesker is in possession of P30, a mind-altering substance that forces the recipient into obedience. Wesker has used P30 on Chris before, as well as two other B.S.A.A. agents. She saw the effects first-hand. If Chris was given this drug again, that could very well explain what Merah observed…

She needs meet with Affini to discuss this new information, but with his undisguised bias against Chris, he will no doubt jump to the worst possible conclusions and try to do something unsavory. She needs to have contingency plans ready.

=

Jake is not thrilled when his supposed father, though the man looks anything but paternal, shows up for another pointless visit. His hand is still sore from trying to punch Wesker the first day. It was like punching a block of steel, but that’s not going to stop him from trying again. The bastard deserves a punch in the face and worse for hurting Mom, let alone what he’s putting Sherry through.

“Where is Sherry?”

“Sleeping. Don’t you have cameras watching our every move?” 

He’s not sure if he actually wants to know the answer. Wesker may have been nice to Sherry in the past, but he can’t put anything past this guy. 

“You didn’t bring Chris today either. What’s wrong, don’t want to show off your handiwork with him?”

Wesker is quiet for a moment, as if trying to figure him out. He stands his ground. He’s not about to allow this bastard an inch, not after everything.

“I have been busy,” Wesker replies vaguely. It makes Jake uneasy. He has had plenty of time to think and piece together what he knows. In an earlier visit, the creep had shamelessly admitted to kidnapping a mercenary in the mountains, some time before everything went to hell at the port town. Given the location and timing, the “infected subject” unlucky enough to run into Wesker is probably Aca, the only mercenary to have gone up to the mountains to deliver supplies to them at the school. This bodes badly for the others who were stationed at the town, if Aca was infected well before outbreak at the port town happened.

“What, studying the new virus? Don’t see what it can teach you, besides the fact that the people who make stuff like this are assholes.” It’s increasingly difficult to not get testy around the bastard, being stuck here for four days straight and given the runaround. It feels like cabin fever.

Wesker doesn’t take the bait, instead shooting him a piercing look. “I take it you want answers for Sherry, answers she won’t ask for on her own.”

He sneers, puffing up to his full height and wishing he could break out and see who Wesker kidnapped, so that he can at least put the poor bastard out of his misery if the infection is too far along.

“But yes, I’m currently investigating the new t-virus variant that was unleashed on the town. As for my C-virus, it did well in its first field test, but it is hardly something I’m about to unleash again without a cure.” 

Being reminded that the psycho purposely used a school as a testing ground for a virus with no cure makes him even more angry. He remembers all the kids who died at the school, remembers what he had to do to Marko… If there had been a cure, could he have gotten it to Marko in time? Would it have taken? The possibilities are too hard to think about. 

His very own  _ father  _ is responsible for all of this.

No wonder Sherry seems so conflicted. This guy must be a very skilled liar, to have gained Sherry’s trust back then and duped Mom into getting together with him. No one this evil, this foul, should have been near Mom. Maybe being related to Wesker explains some of his own failings, such as letting his mother die painfully and alone.

He forcibly pushes the thought away. He’s responsible for his own flaws, but not giving a damn isn’t one of them. Wesker is the one who wasn’t there, the one who is so callous with the lives of those around him. 

“Didn’t you say you were using it to stabilize something, or is lying just your forte?” 

Annoyance flashes across Wesker’s expression. It’s a dangerous line he’s toeing, but at least the creep isn’t asking about Sherry anymore. 

“If not Chris, what about his friends? Unless they’re on the cutting room floor too.”

The corner of Wesker’s mouth gives a slight twitch as he steps closer, until they are face to face. They are about the same height, which is too bad because he can’t glare at Wesker from above, but he isn’t going to back down from this topic. The B.S.A.A. people did what they could to help back at the school. He isn’t going to stand idly by and let them be abused by this asshole.

Wesker turns on the TV and does something on a tablet. A surveillance feed shows up on the TV. There are two men in a medical bay of some sort. One of them is the younger B.S.A.A. agent who was with Chris. The other guy doesn’t look familiar. He is lying in a bed with some IV lines going into him. 

“These two are fine, as you can see. I have yet to initiate anything with them.”

“And Chris?” 

Sherry has been freaking out over whether Chris okay. He is getting more worried too. Even though he blew his top about how things turned out at the school, he can’t stay mad at Chris for long. The B.S.A.A. captain did as good of a job as he could have, especially with how shitty the circumstances were. He wonders if Lazar and the kids could have survived if Chris had been at the chapel instead of with Sherry and him. When they were at the school, something about Chris made him feel like they could actually get out of this, even though the guy was obviously worn out and running on fumes. What would Chris be like when he’s at his best?

“You both are quite adamant on seeing my point man again.”

“He kinda was  _ saving our lives _ until you barged in. I figured you’d want us to show him some fuckin’ gratitude.” 

What is Wesker up to and why is he being so cagey? That’s the second time that he’s called Chris his “point man.” Do they have a history or something? He’s seen enough wanna-be crusaders who were all for taking a mission if it meant revenge or whatever. It never ended well.

“I’ll bring him up so you three can have dinner together. I expect you all to behave. Chris has been warned, but I am not above finding  _ new  _ test subjects.” The TV screen displaying the surveillance feed of the two men looms large behind them. “Tell Sherry if you prefer. I’ll bring Chris here in the evening.”

Wesker departs unceremoniously. As tempting as it is to throw something at the bastard’s head, he should check if these camera feeds can be used to his advantage. He plays around on the tablet that Wesker left behind until he finds more camera feeds. Some of the cameras overlook a laboratory. He smirks a little at how stereotypical the lab is, with the weird machines and giant stasis tubes. 

Sherry comes out of her cell. Hopefully she has gotten some rest.

“Doing okay?”

“Think so... Did he come by again?”

“Yep. We’re having dinner with Chris, so that’s...a thing…” 

He tries to find a good view of the stasis tubes in the lab. Most of them contain random mutated body parts or other unidentifiable things. There is a misshapen monster floating in one of them. In another tube is a redheaded man who looks to be frozen solid instead of suspended in fluid. There are a few strange plaques on the man’s containment tank. The image quality isn’t good enough for him to tell for sure, but that could be Aca.

“Who is that?” Sherry asks, fiddling around with the tablet to try to get a better look at the frozen person. 

There is no need to tell her about his suspicion that Aca is here, frozen like a popsicle in Wesker’s lab, until he has some way of verifying it. She has enough on her plate. “One more person to rescue, I guess. I saw two B.S.A.A. guys alive on the camera feeds.” 

She cycles through the camera feeds again before changing the display back to a TV channel. “I don’t see Chris on any of these cameras. Wesker must be keeping him somewhere else.”

He searches for a news program that is talking about Edonia, which doesn’t take long. Pretty much all the news channel are covering the disaster and dissecting every bit of information that’s been made available. The B.S.A.A. is starting to get things under control. There are even a few survivors from the town, though details are hazy. Judging by the date on the news programs, it’s really been four days since they have been brought here. 

Things feel way too tense already. He wonders how quickly the levee will break if he continues to piss Wesker off. He almost regrets being so confrontational earlier.

The whole thing is just weird. He is horrible at figuring out his sperm donor’s moods and actions, which isn’t helped by the sunglasses Wesker wears 24/7 to hide those funky eyes. Sherry told him earlier that Wesker’s eyes used to be blue, something Jake was not pleased to find out.

_ “You have such beautiful eyes. Just like your father’s.” His mother smiled at him, stroking the side of his face. She was feverish. “They’re darker, though… They suit you so well.” _

_ “I’ll get you your medicine,” he said, hating his father all the more, and himself for reminding her again of  _ that man _. The man who should be here taking care of her, who should be around, who-- _

He pushes the memory away. “So, what should we make for this special event?”

Sherry looks at him like she knows there is something on his mind. “Are you ok?”

“I’m not going to let him get to me. I just...hate seeing him.”

She is probably expecting more of an explanation, but he doesn’t want to talk about Mom right now. He has already let slip yesterday that his mom got left behind by Wesker and died. Does he really need to make public how much she suffered with him as a son and how much he failed her? 

“He’s just a sperm donor to me. Everything else is everything else.”

“Um...maybe something light for dinner? I’m not sure how badly Chris is hurt.” She tactfully changes the topic to something more relevant. They need to help Chris in some way, shape, or form.  

“We should get some snacks too. He’s had a tough couple of days. He’ll be hungry.”

=

When Wesker located Chris at the school, the younger man had been exhausted and not at his best. As usual, Chris had tried to taunt and provoke him in order to buy time. When that was unsuccessful, Chris had fought with increasing disregard for his own safety. The obvious rebellion and desperation were concerning, but thanks to his foresight, he had two doses of P30 on his person. One was administered to Chris and the other to the over-enthusiastic B.S.A.A. underling. The drug put an immediate stop to Chris’s antics, though it remains discomfiting to think about the damage Chris could have potentially incurred to himself. It could have turned out worse than the broken bones and dislocated shoulder from last time. He could have lost Chris as a result of this reckless willfulness.

The possibility angers him. Chris is finally back by his side, and these behaviors need to stop. There is unlikely to be any quick fix to this problem, which is all the more irksome. He wasn’t consistent enough with Chris in the past, having prioritized his own fun and gratification. This time, things will be different. Chris will be given a steady hand that delivers predictable punishment and reward, until the willfulness and other undesirable behaviors are completely eradicated. Then Chris can be more effectively trained to reach his full potential and taught to accept his place. It’s hard to not to show visible annoyance at the borderline suicidal behaviors, but Wesker reminds himself that they are merely a final manifestation of Chris's flagging resistance, a swan song of sorts. Chris is on the verge of breaking and yielding, not unlike the time shortly before the B.S.A.A.’s meddling caused them to be separated. As annoying as the B.S.A.A. was, its attempt to intervene ultimately turned out to be futile, given the ease with which Chris was returned to this near-broken state. The job will be finished properly this time around. He needs to handle Chris carefully during this delicate stage, to achieve the desired training without breaking his point man’s spirit entirely or causing other harmful sequelae.

He has enjoyed the previous times when Chris voluntarily gave in to his body’s desires and stopped fighting his rightful purpose. However, these episodes only happen when certain criteria are met. One such episode happened in the setting of their most recent, and final, interaction with his point man’s former pathetic excuse of a captain. Shortly after disposing of the lowlife, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that Chris was much calmer and more acquiescent when permitted to sit upright during their more intimate activities. He has taken advantage of this reaction several times with good results, the most recent time being three days ago, when he laid claim to his point man after their reunion. Despite its utility, he is unsure why Chris responds so agreeably to this position. He has the nagging suspicion that Clay has something to do with it. Nevertheless, it is too late to get more answers out of Clay. The man was far too irritating to be allowed to live for long.

He checks the time and walks back into Chris’s line of sight. The younger man has been wrapped like a mummy, held in place by transparent shrink wrap, with extra layers reinforced over his legs and arms. He is secured to a plank and immobilized so tightly that he can barely twitch. Wesker has entertained himself for the past hour with his captive’s reactions. When Chris initially became aware that he was so completely immobilized, he spent at least twenty minutes thrashing in the throes of panic before slackening from exhaustion and insufficient air. He has not struggled since then, but his eyes remain wide and frantic.

Wesker leisurely taps on the gag in Chris’s mouth, receiving a startled look in return. He has not claimed Chris since the first day, especially in light of the earlier misbehavior, wanting to finish the full course of punishment before permitting Chris any pleasure. The past two days have been spent on administering his captive’s well-deserved chastisement for the escape attempt as well as other past infractions, until the active shows of resistance have been whittled down to nearly nothing. It won’t be necessary this time, but in the future he can always make an example of the B.S.A.A. underlings as an extra incentive for his point man to behave. Though on second thought, he should ideally avoid doing something that may further sour Sherry and Jake’s attitude towards him if they were ever to find out.

“It’s almost time for your visit,” he says, running a hand along the trapped body. Chris tries to act stoic, but there is no missing his pupils dilating in fear and his chest straining against the shrink wrap as his breathing picks up. 

“This seems to hold up nicely. Good.” 

He lovingly traces the finger-shaped bruises on Chris’s neck and moves up until he is all but tickling under Chris’s chin. His captive panics even more and tries to struggle, chest heaving. The restraints hold Chris perfectly in place and his efforts only result in barely perceptible squirming. It’s undeniably fun to watch him fight so much despite the futility of it and the pain the movements are no doubt causing.

“You should relax, Chris. I’m not going to do anything more tonight.” He smirks, looking over the naked body on display through the bindings. “It would be in your best interests to behave. We may be nearing the end of  _ your  _ punishment, but there are others who can benefit from discipline as well.” Just to make sure Chris is sufficiently cowed, he says, “Jake and Sherry may not be children anymore, but they still have much to learn. Though I won’t start with them.” 

It works even better than expected. Chris’s jaw trembles violently, his eyes glistening with fear and revulsion. He struggles harder, though it’s more from mindless hysterics than any conscious intention to resist. With his breathing restricted by the extensive bindings, it doesn’t take long for Chris to tire himself out. Wesker runs his fingers through the younger man’s sweaty hair. It’s a good length, short enough to be easily kept neat and long enough to grip. He’ll make sure to keep it at this length in the future.

“I’m glad we understand each other. You will be good from now on, I hope? I want to be able to reward you, not punish you.” 

Chris flinches at the word “reward,” eyes darting away to fixate on a corner of the ceiling. He gives himself plenty of time to appreciate Chris’s eyes, which are an enticing, earthy tone of red, like a well-aged vintage of wine. It is exciting to see all the ways his point man is being changed by the Prototype virus. He hasn’t felt this way since a long time ago, when he was transferred to the Arklay laboratory to perform groundbreaking research that has no one has ever fathomed. He is feeling the same thrill for research once more, with Chris as a subject of further study and also with the breakthrough involving the C-virus, which has stabilized a t-Veronica-infected specimen he obtained many years ago.

He takes off the gag and strokes Chris’s jaw. The older, more rugged lines of Chris’s face are a sharp contrast to the youthful features from before. He really should have encouraged a closer personal relationship back when Chris was young, impressionable, and eager to please. With how much Chris idolized him during the S.T.A.R.S. days, it wouldn’t have been difficult. Keeping Chris by his side would have been a much smoother process with a personal attachment already in place, but it is no use crying over spilt milk. He wants that trust and devotion again. With Chris in his possession, it is just a matter of time. As for the age-related physical changes, the Prototype virus can always be tweaked...

Chris is quiet and not moving away from the touch, though there are continuous shivers running through his body. As a test, Wesker cuts off the restraints then does nothing more. Chris slowly sits up, the shivering all the more evident. Resistance and escape seem to be the farthest things from his point man’s mind. He gives Chris time to reconstitute and stand on his own -- a bit of freedom to act as positive reinforcement for the current good behavior. Chris carefully tests each limb, obviously still concerned about his knees. They no longer seem to be painful, which is to be expected. After all, he was able to move well enough during that ill-planned escape attempt. It was out of character. Chris is normally more calculating with his attacks and escape attempts. 

“Let’s get you ready.” 

The shivering increases. Chris is attempting to inconspicuously even out his breathing. It is a glaringly obvious tell for when Chris is trying to calm himself. He has been using this strategy since he was in S.T.A.R.S., if not earlier. As much as Chris may try to keep things in, his body will always give him away. 

Wesker lays out a new set of clothes, identical to the previous ones. After being prompted, Chris stumbles over and hesitantly gets dressed. His skin from the shoulders down is painfully red and covered extensively in bruises, but no medical attention will be required because the bleeding welts from the previous session have already healed. Wesker once more congratulates himself for choosing to use only blunt instruments that do not draw blood. It certainly makes this time’s cleanup much easier.

His captive is still trembling and appears far more subdued than before. This new method of restraint must be especially effective as a punishment, if it has Chris so spooked after barely an hour. It will be an excellent option of discipline to consider for future instances of severe misbehavior. Perhaps he will be able to finish up the remainder of the punishment after dinner, then move on to the even more enjoyable task of making sure that Chris understands who he belongs to. Well, if Chris decides to cause more trouble to justify sooner punishment, that is. If Chris manages to behave during the visit, he will unfortunately have to hold off until at least tomorrow morning or risk causing too much confusion in the training process. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris visits with Sherry and Jake, and afterwards gets a 'reward'.

Chris is on edge when he reaches the better furnished wing of the building where Sherry and Jake are supposedly being kept. It is similar to a few of the other Umbrella facilities he has been in, decorated like something out of Victorian England. Prior to reaching this area, he and Wesker had ascended several floors of labs, containment cells, and operating rooms. Did Umbrella use the same architect for all their secret research labs? They must have liked this design, since it let them contain test subjects as well as their own staff, if the need arose.

Limping a few steps behind Wesker, he does his best to map out the place without being too obvious about it. His captor is dragging him by the leash and collar again. His hands are tied behind him with soft cuffs that remind him of the ones used to restrain him at the B.S.A.A. hospital. Wesker is purposely walking too fast. He has to scramble to keep up while trying to not aggravate his aches and pains, which is an impossible task. Every time he stumbles, the pain from his back muscles spasming and his bruised thighs rubbing together is enough to make his breath hitch.

He forces himself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. He will be able to check on Sherry and Jake soon, and he is far away from the room of torture devices used to cause him pain and push him to the edge of pleasure that he hates. He can only hope that Sherry and Jake are in better shape than Piers and Finn. Wesker can't be allowed to take out his anger on any of them. As much as he hates giving in to the madman’s sick demands, he has to if it keeps the others out of harm’s way.

They reach a door. Wesker begins to type a code into the keypad, not even bothering to be discreet. Despite his fear of being caught, he nevertheless watches his captor’s movements and replays the image in his mind until he memorizes the code. He won’t be able to forgive himself if he misses an opportunity that can potentially help the others escape, but what if it is a trick and Wesker finds out? The thought of more punishment makes him tremble. He is not sure if he can take much more… The longer he is stuck here, the more easily he gets trapped in his own mind in the few moments of downtime when he’s not unconscious, freaking out, or incoherent from pain. 

The door clicks open. He is led into a drawing room that reminds him of the one at the Arklay mansion. There is even a grand piano to one side. Near the center of the room is a large TV that clashes badly with the turn-of-the-century furniture and antique knick knacks. Jake and Sherry aren’t in the room. He belatedly notices that he is still wearing the collar and leash. Face reddening at the realization of how this will look, he is torn on how to proceed. They can’t see him like this! But the alternative is to beg... 

Stuck in this impossible dilemma, he is so overtaken by anxiety that he nearly jumps when Wesker takes off the collar. 

“I’ll return for you later, Chris.” 

As soon as the door closes behind Wesker, Chris tugs on the cuffs around his wrists, unwilling to remain restrained for much longer. He hears footsteps and sees Sherry walk into the room. She is wearing different clothes, but otherwise looks unharmed and rested. She runs to his side with a loud exclamation of “you’re here!” and hurriedly removes the cuffs, making him wonder what kind of sorry state he must be in for her to be in such a rush. Once he is freed, she wraps her arms around him. He barely stops himself from tensing in pain and returns the hug weakly. 

“A...Are you ok?” His voice is still hoarse. She nods and releases him, worriedly looking him up and down. 

Jake walks into the room. “We’re good. We’ve got food. Come on.”

Chris freezes at the sight of the blue shirt and black combat fatigues that Jake is wearing, though the red hair ruins the complete image. The only thing missing is a S.T.A.R.S. tactical vest, but Wesker is unlikely to have kept that item after the Tyrant tore a hole through it. Who knows why Wesker is pulling this stunt, but he’s glad it’s not working like Wesker intended. Jake is nothing like Wesker, even if he happens to be wearing something resembling Wesker’s old outfit. Chris wants to throw this in their captor’s face - that despite everything, Jake is his own person and most likely hates Wesker’s guts.  

As much as he wants to plan an escape with them right away, he is grateful for the reprieve. Seeing Sherry and Jake safe gives him hope. He wants to,  _ needs  _ to get them out of here before they get hurt, but they’ll want him to escape too, which will complicate things.

The two of them continue to talk. Not really listening, he follows on autopilot and becomes increasingly distracted by the delicious smell of cooked meat. By the time they reach the large dining room, his stomach is clenching in hunger and his mouth is watering. The feeling of hunger had disappeared when he was experiencing far worse discomforts under Wesker’s hands. Now that he’s not being beaten to within an inch of his life and food is almost in front of him, the hunger pangs are back with a vengeance. 

“--work with whatever he puts in. Bastard seems to think we read Russian,” Jake is saying, but Chris barely hears the words, too preoccupied with getting to the dinner table. Sherry takes up a spot next to him and ladles beef stew into a bowl. He eats ravenously and scrapes the bowl clean with a piece of bread that Sherry tucks into his hand. Before he has to ask, another helping is given to him. During the second helping, he is able to slow down enough to grunt out a few words of appreciation. The food tastes  _ so good. _ He hasn’t had anything to eat since they got kidnapped, however long that is. He is about to ask Sherry and Jake how long it’s been, but the question slips his mind when he is sidetracked by a sandwich being placed in front of him. 

“We should get the others up here too, those three in the labs,” Jake says.

“Mmm...” Chris makes a vague sound of acknowledgement between mouthfuls. Three? But only Finn and Piers are down there.

“We can talk about it later,” Sherry says, “after dinner.”

They carry on light conversation next to him and refills his food as needed. When the hunger finally subsides, he looks longingly at what’s left on the table, wanting to eat more but worried that he will get sick later. He tries to pay more attention to their conversation, but soon finds his eyelids getting heavy. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to stay awake, he fails to stifle a yawn. It’s a losing battle. The grogginess and exhaustion refuse to go away now that he’s warm, fed, and not being hurt.

“My room has a lock on the door. You can get some rest in there. Sherry and I will be right outside,” Jake offers. Sherry nods in enthusiastic agreement like it’s a great idea.

“...Sounds nice.” A locked door won’t offer much protection when Wesker can easily rip it off its hinges, but he opts to not think about that. He instead thinks about the fact that Jake and Sherry will both be outside, giving him a chance to ready himself when Wesker comes back. They are putting themselves on the line for him when he is supposed to be protecting them...

Jake’s brows are knitted in concern. “You take some time to rest. We got this.”

“If you want to survive, you guys have to do what he says...” 

“I’m bad at getting along with mass murderers.”

“I… I don’t want you hurt.”

Jake shows a flicker of what looks like guilt, before saying, “I’ll be fine.”

“...I mean it, Jake. He’ll snap at the smallest thing, and I don’t want either of you on the receiving end. He’s got Piers and Finn to use against us. I can’t let that happen.”

It is strangely easy to say all this while sounding put-together, even though he is anything but. Maybe it’s because he’s been doing this for so long -- going after Wesker and Umbrella and their sick creations, stopping them from hurting people. It’s just a matter of time before Wesker tries to experiment on Jake and Sherry. He has to get them out of here before then...

“Yeah, well, if anything happens, it’s the mass-murdering psycho’s fault, not yours,” Jake says with a convicted expression that reminds Chris of himself, when he was younger. The similarity makes his head spin, but also makes him feel safer for some reason. 

He must have nodded off at some point, because the next thing he knows, Jake is by his side, gently shaking him awake and helping him out of the chair. Sighing, he forces his limbs to move.

By the time they get to a neatly furnished bedroom, he is exhausted and every ache is making itself known. Jake steers him towards the comfortable-looking bed.

“Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

He is asleep before he has fully laid down. He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes.

=

Jake waits a few moments, until he’s sure that Chris is out like a damned light, before shifting the sleeping man into a more comfortable position on the bed and adjusting the blankets. He wasn’t exaggerating earlier. Chris looks like shit and is obviously being tortured by Wesker on a regular basis. Checking on Chris one last time, Jake sets the lock and walks out. He doesn’t have the key to unlock the door. It’s likely that the only person who has a key is his asshole sperm donor, not that the psycho needs it, judging from the way he was punching holes in walls and denting steel at the school. At least the idea of a locked door seems to have reassured Mr. B.S.A.A. enough for him to fall asleep.

When he comes out, Sherry is sitting on the floor with a paring knife in hand and facing the door that Wesker comes in and out of. It’s not much of a knife, but it’s what they have. 

He gives her his most reassuring look. “He’s resting now.”

“You mean passed out.”

“That too. We should get more food for when he wakes up. He wolfed everything down like he was starving.” 

Chris had been dazed and barely capable of conversation until they got some food into him. Not that the period of lucidity lasted long, with Chris basically keeling over from exhaustion the second he was no longer starving. Jake wants to demand that Wesker stop torturing and starving the B.S.A.A. agent, but such a confrontation will probably make things worse… He should really follow Chris’s advice. He needs to act the part of the son who is happy to be reunited with his long lost father… Yeah right.

He understands that Chris wants to protect them, but Wesker technically hasn’t asked much of Sherry and him yet, though how much of that is to trick them into a false sense of security until Wesker shows his true colors? The guy is a mass-murdering psychopath who won’t be able to play nice for long.

“Jake…” Sherry looks over at him, nervous but determined. “We have to do something.”

“Yeah, we have to figure something out...” 

He plays around on the tablet, changing the camera feeds in hopes of locating Wesker, but the man is nowhere in sight. The two B.S.A.A. agents are still alive and in the same room, which is hopefully a good sign.  

“Do you think we can get them up here as well?” Sherry asks.

“Dunno. I’m a bit confused, though.” He continues to aimlessly cycle between the camera feeds. 

“About what?”

He points to the frozen guy in the stasis tube. “Mostly how Chris reacted to something I said. When I mentioned three other people, he looked confused, like he didn’t know there was a third person. Granted, he was face-deep in stew at the time, but still... I don’t know who else Wesker kidnapped from the school, and it seems like Chris doesn’t either. Maybe Wesker kidnapped this person at a different time.”

He is almost tempted to tell her that he thinks the frozen person in Wesker’s lab is Aca, but there is no point in causing her unnecessary pain if his suspicions are wrong.

Sherry considers this for a long moment. “I wish we could zoom in a bit more and get a better visual. Maybe then Chris can tell us more.”

He changes the TV back to the news channel. It’s still going on and on about Edonia, mostly speculating about the attack based on the available information. The trials of the ELA leaders have started. 

“I can play some piano if you’d like. It’ll give us something to do, at least.” 

As they walk towards the piano, he sees the cuffs that were on Chris. They don’t exactly come across as full-on torture, but given the way Chris was acting, who knows what else Wesker did. He wants to throw them in the trash, not that it’ll stop whatever Wesker is up to. He dumps them in the trash anyway. Even though he really shouldn’t piss Wesker off again, he just can’t stop himself. Wesker left Mom for whatever sick biological experiments he is still actively engaged in, and now...now what? The psycho expects Sherry and Jake to play house with him and the people he is torturing? No fucking thank you.

He stomps over to the piano to pick out something to play. At least there is a good selection. 

“Will it be ok?”

“I won’t play too loud. He’s out, but if he wakes up I’ll stop.” He picks out a compendium of pieces by Liszt. Flipping through the pages, he happens across a familiar piece -- Liebesträum No. 3. He’s played it before and always found it cathartic. 

“Hey, can you help me by turning the pages?”

Sherry gives him a long look for some unknown reason. 

“What?”

“Nothing… You’ve just never read much Austen, have you?” she says with a weird glint in her eyes.

“Who? No idea what you mean,” he mutters, befuddled by how reading is relevant to their conversation right now. “I’ll tell you when we get near...”

She sits down next to him on the piano bench and motions for him to start. He lets out a huff and begins to play. The piece isn’t difficult. He learned it a few years ago. It’s soothing to hear the familiar melody as his fingers dance over the keys. The muscle memory returns and he is soon able to play without much effort, allowing his mind to wander.

Thank whatever god was listening he got Mom’s talent. The reminder that he is more similar to Mom than Wesker makes him feel better.

“Do you think he has this place bugged?” he asks under his breath. 

“I hope not.” She leans closer to him. “But I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.”

He continues to play, thinking about how best to deal with Wesker and their situation. They probably have to wait until the time is right before they act, but no matter what, they have to be careful. Wesker may be a deadbeat, but he is a particularly dangerous one.  

“So what now? I mean, Wesker’s gonna come take Chris away. What’s our next move?”

She turns the page, tilting her head closer to him so that it’s almost resting on his shoulder. “We need to talk to Chris and make a plan, and make the others aware of whatever we come up with before we make any big moves. Given how Wesker is treating us, maybe we’ll have an opening to carry things out. But the longer we stay…”

The longer they stay, the harder it’ll be to get out of here.

=

Chris wakes to the sound of an argument. His body is slow to come online, too comfortable to want to leave the bed, but the sound of Wesker’s voice makes him sit up immediately. He’s still in Jake’s room. He feels physically better and his head is far clearer than it’s been for a while. 

He hurries to the door, feeling a little stiff but in no pain. The argument on the other side of the door scares him. Are Sherry and Jake ok? Is Wesker threatening them? He only hesitates for a second before unlocking the door and opening it up wide. Wesker is outside, being blocked from entering by Jake and Sherry. The madman spares him a glance and then looks back to Jake and Sherry.

“You seem to have good intentions, but you shouldn’t get between me and what’s mine. I certainly would not get between you and Sherry.”

“I’d never call her ‘mine’ like I own her,” Jake snarls. 

Chris can’t even look Jake in the eyes anymore, hating the idea of being protected by the kid, but at the same time, he knows that he would have done the same thing if he were in Jake’s position. His main fear is more about what Wesker will do if Jake continues to get in the way. As memories of today’s events come back to him, he becomes increasingly enraged by Wesker’s actions -- the threat towards Jake and Sherry, implying that Jake is anything like Wesker, treating them like possessions _.. _ .

“Back off,” he growls at Wesker, who examines him with an expression of clinical detachment. It almost escapes his notice, but surprise flickers across Wesker’s face. For some reason, the fleeting sign of surprise emboldens him. He won’t act like Wesker’s bitch. The psycho can use whatever punishment he wants, but he isn’t touching a hair on anyone else’s head.

Chris knows he’s going to pay for talking back, but as long as Wesker’s focused on him and not harming the others, he’ll take it. He’ll take anything.

Wesker looks at him calculatingly. “If you’re unavailable, I’ll find  _ someone else _ to occupy my time.”

Sherry and Jake look ready for a fight,  but they won’t be able to even slow Wesker down, never mind defeat him. It is beyond obvious that the man wants to provoke them into resisting in order to have a justification to punish them.

“I’ll come with you. Just leave Jake alone.”

Wesker looks surprised again. Chris glares back stubbornly. It is clear that he is about to be dragged back to the torture room for another round of punishment, but he’ll be  _ damned  _ before he lets the psycho do anything to the others.

Wesker motions to the door. Before walking out the door, Chris exchanges a glance with Sherry and Jake, trying to silently convey that they need to cooperate for now. Wesker’s eyes are on his back the entire time, which makes him burn with unease, but he has to play it cool if it means keeping the two safe. He risks a glance back to make sure that Wesker is following him and not staying behind. Sherry and Jake look almost afraid as the door clicks shut.

“Are you proud of that little tantrum you threw, Chris?” Wesker smirks in sadistic delight. “I’m surprised. You seem to enjoy putting on a show for the others -- first your little B.S.A.A. team, now my son and Birkin’s daughter.”

“You think you can make Jake into someone like you. That’s never gonna happen.”

“Jake and Sherry will gradually come around, just as you have.” 

Wesker puts the collar around his neck. He doesn’t resist. He may have gotten some fight back into him, but he’s not going to be stupid about this if means getting the others hurt. He is pulled closer by the leash until he is in what is nearly a lovers’ embrace. Panic starts to build again. He tries to think about the four other people here, or possibly five if what the Jake said is true. He needs to do this for them. Steeling himself against the punishment that is coming, he repeats this mantra endlessly in his mind.

**You are starting to act like you’re not going to come crawling back after being kicked. At least a kicked dog is still capable of showing some loyalty, unlike you.**

“You did well, showing protectiveness for my son and Sherry. You were no doubt expecting punishment, but attempted to defend them regardless of the consequences. I'm pleased. It is a good starting point.” Wesker’s breath is hot against his ear. 

Forced out of his thoughts by the man’s touch and voice, he tries to move away, confused about where this is going. His tongue refuses to work when he sees the telltale flash of yellow behind the sunglasses. 

“If you’re especially well-behaved for the next part, I may even let you see your little soldiers again.”

_ Piers is still hurt, and we need to get those shackles off Finn  _ **_and going down on your knees is what you should do if it is what your Captain wants._ ** **You look better down on your knees, but do you seriously believe he still wants you after how many times he’s used you? Does he know how well Clay used you?**

“Well? What will it be?”

_ Like I have a choice  _ **you can’t make the right choice if it’s staring you in the face. Take it like the slut you are.**

“Let’s get going, Chris. I’m sure you’re eager to see your friends.”

**Go spread your legs for your Captain again.**

He doesn’t -- can’t -- answer as they make their way to the lower levels of the building. Wesker is walking as fast as before, though it is easier for him to keep up this time around. He pretends to stumble once in a while in hopes of downplaying how much better he feels and how alert he is. If that makes it easier to gather information to help the others escape, he’ll do what he can.

They reach the torture room and he has to force himself to go in. He is led to the bed, which is thankfully some distance away from the torture devices. There are a few restraints and other things near the bed. He refuses to look at them, silently counting his blessings that he hasn’t been restrained beyond the collar.

Eyeing him like a piece of meat, Wesker uses the leash to pull him close. A hand moves possessively under his shirt and up his flank, the feather-light touches almost tickling him. He instinctively pulls away, tense and afraid of giving an inch. His thoughts are going a mile a minute with what is probably the beginning of another meltdown. No matter how hard he tries to slow down his thoughts, his mind won’t stop. He’s stuck like an unwilling passenger on a deranged merry-go-round.

**Spread your legs. What else are you good for?**

“Chris.” It takes Wesker’s voice to bring him out of it. The sunglasses are off, giving him a full view of the yellow that has seeped into Wesker’s eyes. The hand on his flank has disappeared and is now running through his hair. “You’re drifting on me again. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Unable to answer, he averts his gaze, just wanting this to be over. The false intimacy of the situation is probably worse than the rapes, but as usual, his body is  _ screaming  _ for Wesker’s touch, to just be held, to be allowed to relax, allowed to--

**You really are a slut.**

“Just get it over with,” he demands, but it sounds more like begging. He almost wants to fall forward and let himself get ploughed from behind. At least then he can pretend...something. Anything.

“So eager for me, or are you still thinking that you can resist?” The hand in his hair wanders down, moving far too intimately across his chest and abdomen before continuing towards his groin. “You’ve been doing very well, even after taking into consideration your little stunt earlier… I may let you see your B.S.A.A. teammates later. I’m sure you’ll enjoy their company.” 

The taunt nearly makes him lose his cool, but he stops himself, dreading the consequences if he freaks out and loses control. He allows himself to be seated on the bed. The others can't be allowed to suffer for his mistakes…

A hand grips his hair, forcing him to look up. Wesker leans down to kiss along his face and neck, avoiding the collar and the old marks on his neck. The feeling sends a shiver up his spine, his body reacting to the sensations against his will despite his efforts to keep his wits about him. Pulling lightly on the leash to keep him in place, Wesker moves to straddle his thighs, trapping him. Another hand traces down his spine, stopping at his backside and thigh.

“Mine.”

Chris pants, fear and arousal making it hard to think. Why Wesker hasn’t pushed him down, or turned him over, he can’t figure out. His shirt is pulled off, the feel of skin against skin making him flinch. Still not permitting him to lay flat on the bed, Wesker kisses and nips his pectorals from one nipple to the other. Fuck, it feels so good, so  _ good _ , but he doesn’t deserve anything good...

_ “You think you can dictate what you get, Redfield? You’re mine, you useless--” _

_ “I’m lenient on you because Irons is an imbecile and his demands are nonsense, but there isn’t much else I can do to curb his posturing. I won’t stop you from doing the right thing, which I know you will do to the maximum extent of your power. You’re  _ my  _ point man, Chris.” _

“My point man,” Wesker murmurs possessively into his skin, shifting him further back onto the bed. He starts to lay down again but Wesker stops him with a pull of the leash, leaving him propped up on his elbows. Weaker settles on top of him, shirtless, pants open and erection straining against the dark underwear. Why isn't he supposed to lay down when that's obviously where Wesker is going next? Why is Wesker dragging this out? Why can't they get this over with?

His growing confusion and distress must have been evident, because Wesker moves from straddling his thighs to kneeling between them, allowing him to wrap his legs around Wesker, to… _ ride _ him.

Some part of Chris wants to just be taken on his back, front, upside down, anything to avoid being forced to participate in his own degradation. But...at the same time, this gives him some control, some strange feeling of…

**_What’s the catch? What will you have to do in exchange?_ **

His arms begin to shake for reasons other than holding his weight. Wesker notices and tries to calm him with gentle touches before pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants. Shifting restlessly, he tries to not show his fear. Wesker lets go of the leash to strip off the sweatpants completely, then gets up to briskly remove his own pants and take the lube out of the side table. At last, Wesker presses him down into the bed until he is laying on his back. He begins to tremble.

Wesker frowns, as if concerned. “I hate to ruin the mood, Chris, but you’ve always liked it when I allowed you to sit upright. We’ll be doing the same thing this time, as a reward. I want you to be comfortable so you can enjoy this. You will only have to lay down for a little while.”

He is too shaken to think of an argument against it. A blush heats his face and he looks away. His body twinges in remembrance, even as his mind rebels against the idea. The memory of the incident Wesker is referring to has always been blurry and missing chunks of time. Now, disorienting segments of it are replaying in his head nonstop like a high-definition film reel. After disposing of Clay, Wesker had taken him like that. He had been pulled onto Wesker’s lap and eagerly enjoyed every second of what came after. Worse yet, Wesker learned everything after forcing Clay to tell it  _ all _ , while Chris stood there gagged, drugged, unable to move or do anything to stop it as his former Air Force superior revealed his every failure--

The cool feeling of lube jolts him back to the present. Panting, he tries hard to not get sucked back into these terrible memories, but...but Wesker  _ knows _ . The madman knows everything… Stuff that not even Jill knows...

“Chris, shh.” A finger breaches him. The pleasure is undeniable, and he can’t help but partially relax from the distraction it’s giving him. 

“My Chris.” The finger brushes against something that makes his toes curl. “My point man.” A second finger is slowly added. “Mine.” Wesker kisses across his chest and under his chin. “He won’t touch you again.” A kiss on his cheek makes him realize that his face is wet with tears. “My perfect soldier.”

His immediately rails against the praise. This has to be some kind of plot to mess with him or brainwash him. It’s the only explanation because these words can’t be true.  _ I’m not worth it, I’m not, I can’t be. _ He begins to thrash against the weight of Wesker’s body on top of him, even though the man’s fingers are deep in his ass and his cock is red and almost painfully hard.

Wesker silences him with another kiss, simple and tame. For a moment, his eyes go wide and his body stills, before he resumes struggling, afraid, unworthy of-- 

“You are magnificent. Anyone else who tells you otherwise is blind.”  

He covers his ears, not wanting to hear any more of Wesker’s words, even though they feel as good as the rest of what Wesker is doing to his traitorous body.  He is manhandled into an upright position as Wesker languorously pushes inside him. The intensity of the pleasure nearly renders him insensate, his limbs twitching helplessly. When he finally settles onto Wesker’s lap, he instinctively grabs Wesker’s shoulders to steady himself. Unlike the other times, he’s not tied up and is able to hold on as Wesker’s hips roll into him. His body moves of its accord, desperate for more.

Wesker doesn’t stop muttering praising or claiming words into his ear. He makes a last-ditch effort to reject what Wesker is saying, but the rest of him, drunk on sensation, allows some to take root. His mind is bounding too far, too much. He craves relief. Wesker’s words are possessive and dangerous but...

An old, old fantasy, one that he buried deep after the Arklay disaster, starts to bubble to the surface. He’s not that dumb, naive kid anymore, but he wants...

Those fiery eyes glow as the pace picks up. He holds on more tightly to Wesker as pleasure continues to build. His mind finally quiets, the angry voices and thoughts retreating…just like the first time this happened, after Clay, when he was trapped in a frenzy of hateful memories. Wesker had helped him come out of it… 

His forehead comes to rest against Wesker’s. The other man grins and drives into him harder, easy praise still spilling from his mouth.

“Chris...my point man, my best man.”

He allows himself, just this once, to soak it in, to let his body’s traitorous nature take over.  _ This is to keep the others safe. What do I matter? I’m dead to the B.S.A.A. the minute I get everyone out of here. I’m too broken to fix. _

A hand goes through his sweat-soaked hair as his and Wesker’s breaths intermingle. He tries to turn away, not wanting to kiss Wesker. He can’t…

He fails to stay quiet as Wesker thrusts into him relentlessly. As he gets closer and closer, he can think of nothing but pleasure. The leash bounces between his and Wesker’s chest as the pace grows even more frantic. Wesker’s hand finds his neglected cock and begins to stroke it from root to tip.

He gasps and shivers as he is pushed over the edge, held upright by Wesker’s hand on the back of his head. With a groan, Wesker finishes a few thrusts later and pulls him down so that they are lying on the bed together, their legs tangled. Wesker ends up on the bottom. Chris knows he should do something to get away from whatever game Wesker is playing, but can't bring himself to. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, he feels good, safe. His mind is quiet, no longer tormenting him with dark thoughts and horrible memories. Maybe it is okay to have this for a little longer… 

Wesker’s hand rubs soothingly between his shoulder blades. He lets his eyelids fall to half-mast. 

“Mine.”

He has to be dreaming a dream from a long time ago, instead of being stuck in the nightmare his life has become. That’s the only explanation for why he nearly says “yes, Captain” in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker continues his fun with Chris, seeing if he can get him to play a nice little game.

Wesker circles his captive, appreciating his handiwork. Chris is suspended upright, his wrists locked into padded cuffs at each end of a metal bar. His legs are bent at the knee and kept apart by another spreader bar secured at the ankles. He is naked, as he should be when they’re alone together. Unlike before, the ropes hold and distribute Chris’s weight comfortably, as the goal isn’t pain or punishment. He started setting up the restraints earlier, while Chris was still fast asleep. The plan was to have Chris remain asleep until all the ropes have been applied, but the younger man woke up as he was being moved and tried to fight as soon as he realized that his limbs were secured to the spreader bars. Fortunately, Chris was too physically weakened by the punishments and sleep deprivation of the past few days to do much besides exhausting himself. Wesker was able to finish tying the remaining ropes and hoist Chris into position without significant interruption. 

Chris is still struggling, his expression one of utter betrayal. It is a little disappointing that Chris is back to being uncooperative after behaving so well a few hours prior. The younger man tends to put up a willful resistance at anything pleasurable until he is worn down enough to give in to what his body sorely needs. It will likely take many more training sessions after this one to reverse this pattern of behavior, but they have all the time in the world.

Wanting Chris to be more agreeable to the next bit of fun, Wesker decides to calm him before proceeding further, though it probably isn’t even necessary given how eager Chris always becomes in the end. Words alone seem insufficient this time, likely due to the disorientation from waking up in restraints. He adds in physical contact that doesn’t move to sexual just yet -- stroking Chris’s hair, gentle kisses, feathery touches. The combination is effective. Chris gradually stops struggling and breathes easier. 

Chris has repeatedly shown himself to be receptive and in dire need of positive reinforcement. It is maddening to think of his point man’s earlier resistance to the well-deserved praise... He really should have used Clay for a longer, more painful experiment. No matter. The man is dead, killed by Jill, and Chris is his again. He strokes a hand along Chris’s naked torso, admiring the musculature and making a few mental notes about the best combat training routine to use once Chris is ready. While Chris’s old bulk had some advantages, this leaner physique is good to keep. The definition is wonderful to look over.

“You...said the punishment is over!” Chris cries out accusingly as soon as his breathing is under control, tracking every movement with wary, scared eyes. Perhaps next time, he will give Chris a better idea of what to expect, but it is so much more entertaining when things are a surprise.

“It is over,” he reassures, stroking over Chris’s hips and thighs, kneading the firm glutes. His point man squirms fitfully at the touch. “We are just going to have some fun now.”

Chris takes a few shallow breaths, appearing even more alarmed. “...Fun?”

Smirking, he displays one of the items he used in the past to test how long Chris could be kept on the edge and how many orgasms he could manage. Upon seeing the item, Chris once more begins to struggle and make panicked sounds.

He resumes the petting and touching to take advantage of the calming effect on Chris. “For this little game, I’m going to see how many times you can come in one sitting.” Chris is wide-eyed and fearful, but his body warms under the calculated touches, cock twitching in anticipation whenever Wesker’s hand moves near. “I think, if we practice for the next week or two, we can get you back to five orgasms per session before you run dry. Unless you think you can get to five this time?”

Chris stares at him in shock, no doubt aghast that they are leaving the realm of vanilla sex so soon. There is not much desire yet, but that will soon change. 

“Think of this as a reward,” he says, leaning in closer so that his clothing rubs against Chris’s flushed, sensitized skin. “If you can come three times during this session, you will be allowed to visit your former teammates. Four times, and you can bring them extra food. Five times, and I’ll throw in extra medical supplies.” 

Despite his obvious apprehension, Chris perks up visibly at the mention of food and medical supplies. This is just too easy. He doesn’t mention the eventual plans for the two B.S.A.A. underlings. They’re far too dangerous to keep around for very long. Caring for his Chris is a great deal of work. Considering how linked these two are to Chris’s earlier escape attempt and suicidal behaviors, they are clearly more liability than asset. Still, he’ll permit them to live for now. Even though it is not a long-term solution, they are an effective incentive for Chris to behave in these early stages of training. Once their usefulness ends in that area, they will make for perfectly good test subjects. He has further attenuated the C-virus with Jake’s serum and Chris’s antibodies. The one with the useless arm can be the first candidate, to see how a preexisting traumatic injury will influence viral activity upon inoculation.

“We’re going for five, Chris. Let’s see what you can do.” 

Chris sets his jaw, no doubt steeling himself to perform for the sake of the two B.S.A.A. underlings. It is unlikely that Chris will succeed. During the two months in Africa, Chris rarely made it to five on any given day. Granted, his point man never had an objective during those times. Chris is loyal to a fault. If it means helping his men, he will push himself past his usual limits. Yet another reason to deal with them sooner rather than later, before Chris gets another foolhardy idea.

He places the items for today on a table behind Chris, who turns to watch his movements but is unable to get a good look. The position of the table-full of items is probably not the best for Chris’s anxieties, but right now, he simply wants to play with his lovely point man. It can be an experiment, to see if the body can be brought to reach what the mind is no doubt trying to attain. 

He brings over a cylindrical sheath that is reminiscent of a fleshlight. He constructed it based on what he saw in a few informative videos. After applying lube to the interior of the sheath, he uses the same hand to slowly pull on Chris’s cock, which responds quickly to his ministrations. Chris tugs hard against the wrist cuffs and tries to stop his hips from bucking into the stimulation.

“You’re already so eager.” 

He slowly slides the sheath onto Chris’s cock, at times pumping it up and down to bring the organ to full attention. Chris is frozen stiff and bright red in the face as the unfamiliar item is used on him, like he can’t believe how eagerly his body is reacting. It’s adorable, truly. 

He secures the sheath in place and turns on the suction. Chris convulses as if electrocuted, before freezing again. He pulls Chris flush against his chest and lets his hands wander along the tense body, teasing the nipples, tickling the flanks, massaging that lovely ass. The multitude of sensations inevitably overwhelms his captive’s meager attempt to not react. Chris’s hips begin to buck in earnest. Moans and grunts of pleasure escape unbidden.

“Already close?” He pulls apart the fingers of Chris’s tightly clenched fist and wraps a wide strip of leather several times around the knuckles, rendering the fingers incapable of bending to form a fist. This is not without a practical purpose, namely to stop Chris from gouging into his own palms, but the additional level of helplessness is appealing as well. It will be fun to see Chris desperate and overstimulated, yet unable to even clench his hands into fists.

“Do you want me to fuck you through it?”

Chris lets out a long, pained whine and shakes his head. Wesker pulls apart the other fist and gives it the same treatment. 

“F-fuck...off...just get on with it...” Chris protests breathlessly, not unlike the time when he refused to divulge how far his relationship with Jill went, even when faced with escalating consequences.

“Back to being defiant when I reward you with pleasure? You are so contrary. We can always stop. I’ll even give your men all the supplies they need, everything short of a way out… You just have to tell them about us. If they don’t believe you, I’m sure we can give them a convincing demonstration.”

Chris’s eyes glow in anger even as his moans become increasingly desperate from the incessant stimulation. He manages to shake his head. “D-don’t...don’t you...dare involve them! Don’t…Ah!”

His hand tightens in retaliation around Chris’s balls, which partially ruins the orgasm, but the amount of ejaculate indicates that Chris has shot a first load. Humming in approval, he removes the sheath.

“You’ve been rather naughty. I don’t think we should count this one towards the total. Why don’t we make this a warm up round?” His captive’s devastated look is absolutely worth it. “Now...let’s start keeping count. See if you can help your men.”

He is almost hoping for Chris to fail before the third, but his pointman is always full of surprises. If he’s not careful, Chris will probably manage five more, just to spite him. Chris’s cock has become flaccid, which won’t do at all. He’s not about to take the time to bring it back up after every orgasm, not when that would give Chris additional time to recover.

He retrieves a length of twine from the table. He did quite a lot of research during their time apart, and has learned a great deal about the extent the human body can go with the right equipment to help it along. He kneels down and takes Chris in hand, smiling when his point man blushes and puts up another token protest upon realizing what will happen next. It is comical now, to think that he once had misgivings about the act. Pleasuring Chris with his mouth is always worth the effort. He especially enjoys watching Chris slowly come apart from the pleasure as his cock grows and throbs from each lick and suck. 

He slowly licks his way up the shaft, which instantly begins to fill. He makes sure to give extra attention to the tip before starting to suck in earnest, swallowing down half of the lengthening cock in one go before slowly pulling back. He repeats the process a few times, mapping every inch of the velvety skin with his tongue. Chris watches with equal parts rapture and disbelief as he is brought back to full mast. Once Chris is writhing urgently, Wesker stops the stimulation and ties the twine around the base of Chris’s balls and cock. His captive moans in frustration from having the pleasure delayed for the moment.

“Even after that practice round, your balls still feel full.” He gently teases the organ in question as Chris mumbles the usual denials. “No? Well, we can always tell your men about our fun.” Chris’s eyes glow again, though this time it’s weaker and far less dramatic. “Draining it is, then.” 

He slides the sheath back onto Chris, then selects a plug from the table. Coating it thoroughly with lube, he uses it to tease Chris’s hole. His captive’s hips jerk in response, making him smile all the more. 

“Let’s add something more to the test, shall we?”

Chris tosses his head back and forth as the plug goes in. Wesker turns on the suction to the sheath, which begins to work ruthlessly. He times the milking suction of the cylinder with small thrusts of the plug against the prostate. Chris scrunches his eyes shut.

“Uh...oh god...ah…Wesker…”

“I almost want to take you like this, see how quickly you fall apart with my cock in you,” he whispers, turning on the plug to vibrate at a low setting and continuing to thrust it in and out. By this point, Chris has been reduced to a quivering mess. “Or have a machine pump into you while I take you in my mouth, tasting every drop of your cum. How long would you last, do you think? Or would you like to suck me off as well? You’re quite good at it when properly motivated.”

He continues the motions until Chris succumbs to another orgasm with the plug pressed firmly against his prostate. Each muscle in Chris’s back stands out in stark contrast as the suction and vibrations persist through the orgasm and beyond, his toes curling helplessly. The volume is nearly the same as before. Not bad. 

When Chris begins to struggle in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation, Wesker powers off the two devices and carefully pulls the reddened cock out of the sheath. 

“There’s one.”

He goes back to the table to look at rest of the items. Behind him, Chris sucks in air greedily. While he does eventually plan to do what he suggested earlier - fucking Chris while milking him dry - he currently wants a creative approach. Though the electrodes are not the most hands-on, the rhythmic contractions they induce offer a good view.

He wraps the electrodes around Chris’s cock and connects the leads to the console. Chris looks torn, like he wants their game to stop, but ultimately says nothing. Not that anything Chris says will affect his plans for today. There are quite a few other things on the lineup that he wants to try, whether Chris wants to or not. 

He is tempted to add the pièce de résistance right now, but it would be best to make his captive a bit more docile before trying something untested. It will be fun to use to collect the third ejaculation and see what changes between the first and third.

He brings the current up slowly, watching Chris’s cock jerk and the muscles in his groin tense. Chris lets out a series of garbled moans and begins to pull at the wrist cuffs again. They haven’t had this much fun since Africa, and Chris has developed a few entertaining new responses. He finds a good setting that has Chris’s hips rolling and cock throbbing. Kissing Chris on the cheek, he once more moves behind Chris to lightly tweak the nipples to stiff peaks. No other touch is provided until Chris is mindless with need. The ropes sway as the younger man all but ruts into the air, desperate for release. His fingers strain futilely, grasping at nothing.

“You’re gorgeous like this.” 

He keeps Chris in this desperate, wanton state for a long while, playing the responsive body like a finely tuned instrument until he feels like Chris has had enough. A single touch to the underside of Chris’s cock sends him plummeting over the edge, the amount shooting impressively far but with less volume than before. Chris is forced to shudder through the agonizingly long orgasm with only the electrodes and a hand in his hair for stimulation. When it is over, Wesker turns off the electricity. He continues to stroke Chris’s hair as Chris comes down, shaking uncontrollably and eyes barely able to focus.

“There’s two,” he says, proud. “Let’s see what you can do for three.”

Chris lets out a low moan that ends with what sounds like a sob. Wesker gives his point man a few more soothing touches before retrieving two more items. The first is a metal sounding rod, the shortest and thinnest one in the set. The second is a larger electrode, with which Chris is already intimately familiar, that is meant to stimulate the prostate. He lubes both of them in preparation. He’ll use the sounding rod first, then add the other item later. 

He moves behind Chris to hold the younger man firmly. Without warning, he grips the base of Chris’s cock and presses the sound against the tip.

“Don’t move.”

“T-the….fuck...no! No, no please, please!” Chris begs as soon as he realizes where the thin metal rod is going and tries to move anyway, forgetting all about the B.S.A.A. underlings that he was so preoccupied with earlier. Disregarding the blathering, Wesker inserts the sound into the urethra with painstaking care, his captive breathing harshly and pleading all the while. Once it is fully inserted, he connects it to the console with a lead. Chris’s eyes are glued to the small metal rod. The sensation is probably akin to having a catheter in, at least for now.

“I won’t start at too high a setting, but let’s try to get there. Shall we?”

The begging turns into a hoarse yell when the current is switched on. Chris begins to thrash madly and starts to scream a minute or two later. Wesker observes for another few minutes, in case this is just Chris riling himself up, but the screams get louder and more distraught, until Chris is choking on his breath and gagging. He turns off the current, not wanting to hurt Chris right now. The sounding rod in conjunction with the electricity seems to be too much. Perhaps he can look into how to make it a more pleasant experience, but until then, he will have to limit its use to when Chris does something deserving of severe punishment. Chris did sass earlier, but it is a minor infraction and a fitting punishment has already been administered. 

He holds Chris still in order to remove the sound and electrodes, before moving up to kiss away the tears. Chris is sobbing openly and fighting in the restraints like a cornered animal, but Wesker persists with the soft touches and soothing words to ameliorate the worst of the agitation. Once Chris is no longer trying to claw at him, he grips Chris’s cock in a loose fist and slowly slides his hand up and down. Deciding to be generous, he starts each stroke at the root and ends by gently palming the glans. Chris initially struggles harder at the additional stimulation, but eventually settles as his body recognizes the return of pleasure. 

To help things along, he touches and kisses all the spots that Chris likes. The younger man is as responsive as always. He keeps Chris on the verge of release, pausing whenever Chris gets too close then starting again. This cycle of orchestrated yearning continues on for quite some time, until he takes pity on his captive’s wanton moans. By now, Chris is completely lost to pleasure, as if the earlier pain never happened. He strokes a little faster and doesn’t stop until the third orgasm dribbles out. He continues the methodical motions through the end of the orgasm contractions.

“Three. Two more to go.”

Chris shivers at the loss of contact. The fight from before is completely gone. Wesker runs a possessive hand along the now fully subdued body, watching the muscles twitch and shift. He picks up the plug from earlier, then a silicone tube that is meant to fit around the shaft of the penis. It is attached to a vibrator that can further intensify the stimulation. The next orgasm or two will likely be the last to have any sort of ejaculation. He intends to get every drop.

He lubes the two items and inserts the plug first. Once the plug is nestled snugly against the spot that will drive all remaining thought from Chris’s head, he secures it in place and sets it to vibrate on low. The silicone tube goes on next and he turns on the attached vibrator as well. At the two pronged assault, Chris begins to moan and tug reflexively against the wrist cuffs. He increases the vibrations until Chris is rutting frenziedly into the silicone tube and clenching helplessly around the plug. 

“I should have started with this, since you apparently love it so much.”

He adjusts himself in his pants, his own arousal getting more difficult to ignore. He wants to take Chris like this, to milk out the fourth and fifth orgasm while buried deep in Chris’s ass.

He unties some of the ropes and lowers Chris’s legs to the floor, then opens his trousers to press his arousal against Chris’s backside. He pulls out the plug with deliberate slowness so that it drags across the prostate on the way out, and is rewarded with a choked whimper from Chris. The second the plug is out, he fills the vacated space. Chris gasps and bows his back to get closer. 

“You’re mine.” 

He turns up the vibrator attached to the silicon tube while he continues to drive into the tight heat. Each thrust is angled to hit the prostate and induces a reflexive spasm in the body he is draped over. Chris is defenseless against the carefully calibrated assault and eventually climaxes with a cry, the entire line of his spine tightening into an arch. This time, barely a trickle of fluid comes out. The feel of the muscles clenching and spasming around him is enough to pull him over the edge as well. Afterwards, he nips at the claiming marks on Chris’s shoulders. The marks are very faded. He will have to add a fresh set soon.

He purposely leaves the vibrating tube in place. Oversensitive from the lack of a pause in stimulation, it doesn’t take long before Chris is squirming and moaning with increasing urgency. He kisses along Chris’s shoulder blades and moves his other hand to massage the heaving pectorals and twist the nipples. More moans and gasps come out of Chris, who is no longer coherent or capable of speech. He licks along Chris’s spine to taste the sweat and rests a hand on the abdomen, which is tensing rhythmically in an attempt to bring about a climax that will not happen unless he permits it. He gradually increases the vibrations to the tube and is rewarded with more breathless sounds of ecstasy. Chuckling, he teases Chris’s balls, then releases the twine and turns the vibrator to the highest setting. Driven to delirious heights of sensation, Chris screams hoarsely as his overwrought cock pulses in a dry orgasm. His fingers flex in an attempt to grip something, but are unable to do even that. As soon as the orgasm ends, he goes limp.

Wesker kisses the jut of Chris’s hip bones and carefully slides the tube off the overstimulated penis. “Congratulations. Looks like they’ve earned a little picnic with you.” 

He lowers Chris to the floor. The younger man is all but unconscious, though is barely holding on by a small thread. After removing the restraints, he runs a claiming hand over Chris to check for hurts and is pleased to find nothing besides a few areas of redness and mild abrasions. He strokes Chris’s hair to lull the already exhausted man into a deep sleep and leaves him to rest on a cushioned mat on the floor. 

While his point man is asleep, he thoroughly disinfects each item, then cleans and organizes the room to his exact standards, all of which takes about an hour. Once that is done, he sets a bottle of water next to Chris and readies a chain for later, to attach to the collar. It is meant to discourage Chris from getting himself into any other trouble. He would prefer to not have to carry out another punishment. His point man won’t be able to take much more for today.

He wakes Chris and helps him sit up. Once Chris is aware enough, he feeds Chris the water in small sips. With his free hand, he rubs gentle circles into Chris’s flank. The younger man is completely docile under his touch.

“You did very well, but you didn’t seem to enjoy one of the new toys.”

Chris startles, as if snapped out of a trance. “W-why don’t you see what happens when you have something shoved down y-your--” He looks away, unable to finish the sentence, but he stays within range of the hand stroking his flank and unwittingly leans closer, shoulder brushing against Wesker’s own.

They continue in a comfortable silence. Chris appears to be enjoying the touches, until he eventually begins to fidget and squirm from anxiety. “...When can I see them?”

It is irksome how fixated Chris is on the two B.S.A.A. underlings. All the more reason to deal with them quickly. Chris’s attitude will almost certainly take a turn for the worse when the plan for those two is revealed. Fortunately, there are many effective methods of discipline in his repertoire, including the new discovery from today, that can be used to return his point man to a proper state of mind. If only it doesn’t come to that, but it appears inevitable that Chris will earn himself another punishment soon. Though he personally can’t complain, given how satisfying it is to beat the willfulness out of Chris until he is crying and pliant again.

“You can see them later today, after you’ve had a longer nap,” he says while stroking Chris’s hair, which is damp with sweat. “You also need to be washed.” 

Chris looks at him skittishly but remains obedient, most likely out of fear that the promised reward would be taken away. While not one hundred percent what Wesker wants to see, the rest of it - Chris naked, allowing himself to be cared for - is a lovely sight, one that he intends to enjoy more frequently in the future. 

He goes to the tiled area that he previously used to clean Chris off and turns on the hot water as an additional incentive for Chris to cooperate. Enticed by the prospect of a hot shower, Chris carefully watches every move before approaching of his own accord and washing himself perfunctorily with the provided soap. While Wesker would have preferred to be the one to wash Chris, he will allow this small bit of freedom as a reward for the good behavior thus far. Plus, he doubts he’ll be able to do much washing without pinning Chris down for another round. 

He retrieves a towel from a cabinet and glances back to make sure Chris doesn’t try anything unwise. Chris is well-behaved for now and accepts the proffered towel to dry off. While he is getting a fresh set of clothes for Chris, he has a sudden urge to leave Chris shirtless to show off the old claiming scars, but brushes the urge aside. The B.S.A.A. underlings will soon be used to further his experiments, and there is no need to let them see what they are unable to appreciate or understand. 

He instead helps Chris gets dressed. At the caring gesture, something raw appears in younger man’s expression. Chris seems to waver briefly between submitting or putting up some sort of resistance, but exhaustion wins out in the end and he leans into the touches, desperate for affection. His point man is finally learning, though the reason why it has taken so long has him once more wishing that he’d kept Clay alive for longer, or that Jill could have at least drawn out the man’s death. Regardless, he will have to do this more often, if it means getting that look of yearning again. Chris does need the attention, and reacts so well to it.

“You should rest now. After I return, we can prepare some food for the picnic with your little friends. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you again.”

_ Spend it well. It’s almost time for a new round of experiments. If the subjects don’t survive...well, Chris can put them out of their misery, as the final test of how much he has changed. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets to visit Piers and Finn, Sherry and Jake have a heart-to-heart, and Wesker speaks to his "sister".

Piers forces himself to walk laps around the room, ignoring the pain that the movements are causing to his busted shoulder. He has to stay somewhat in shape in just case an opportunity for escape arises. Laying in bed all day isn’t going to get him anywhere. He wants to check on Chris. It’s been days since they have seen him, though it’s hard to tell exactly how long from this windowless room.  

There isn’t a lot they can do right now for an escape plan without more info on the layout of the place or where the others are. Chris will probably know this information, but if they are unable to meet Chris, they won’t be able to make much of a plan. He can possibly get Finn and himself out at some point, but Wesker may easily catch up and kill them, or worse, torture Chris as retaliation until he is entirely unable to defend himself. Piers hates seeing the defeat in his Captain’s eyes. All he wants is to get Chris and Finn out of here, but with his arm the way it is… What’s the use of a sniper without an arm? But at least he is strong enough to sit up and walk around now. If he has a gun, he can at least put up a fight. Whatever happens, he will make do. It’s not like he’s the first sniper this ever happened to.

Finn goes to the cabinet where their supplies are stored, the shackles around his ankles clanging with every step. The medical supplies have been running low for a while, but Finn looks more ill at ease than usual. 

“What’s wrong? The supplies?”

“That, and I’m worried... The Captain was badly hurt when he came here, but he almost didn’t want me to help him at first… Besides the new wounds, I saw some old marks...around his neck, and on his torso.”

Piers rubs his good hand over his face. Chris is back under the thumb of that bastard who hurt him so badly the first time… He has an inkling of what happened when Chris went missing for two months, though the full report is above his pay grade. Now Finn is about to figure out what the old marks are, if he hasn't already. 

“Hopefully he’ll be okay when he comes in again,” he says in an attempt to be reassuring.

Based on Finn’s inventory, the supplies are more depleted than he thought. He is thinking about how to ration what they have left when the door opens. Chris walks in, glancing briefly behind him. Piers doesn’t catch if Wesker is out there before the door closes, but he’s too grateful to see the Captain to care.

Chris still looks worn out, but he doesn’t look quite as bad as the first time. His irises are redder than before. What is that madman doing to Chris?

“Captain!” Finn exclaims happily and walks over as quickly as possible, noticing the large box Chris is holding. “What’s…?”

“Extra supplies,” Chris says, setting the box down on the table. 

Piers wonders what Chris had to do for these supplies, but doesn’t voice his concerns. Chris is doing what he can to help them survive until they figure out how to rescue the other two and get out of here quickly.

“I talked with Jake and Sherry.” Chris hands each of them a cup of soup, then takes out sandwiches, a thermos of what smells like hot coffee, and other non-perishable foodstuffs. “They’re doing okay. Wesker locked them up in a nicer part of the building. There is a grand piano in there and everything. They’re being treated well for now.” Chris looks both of them up and down. “Are you feeling ok?”

“Can’t use my arm, but I’ll work with what I have,” Piers mutters, taking the food one-handed. “What about you? Are you...I mean…”

Chris sighs, looking away. “I’m… We can worry about that later.” 

Piers wants to demand more, but manages to keep his mouth shut. He’s going to assume they’re lucky to still be alive, and that whatever motives Wesker has for keeping them around haven’t changed...

He mentally kicks himself for thinking like they’ve already lost. His Captain, the man who recruited him to the B.S.A.A., is being hurt and tortured by some sadistic bioterrorist, the one who’s responsible for the creation of the t-virus and its countless iterations. He shouldn’t be feeling resigned about this at all! What the hell is wrong with him?

“Piers,” Chris’s hand is on his left arm. He looks into Chris’s eyes, the redder color reminding him that the accursed bioterrorist  _ is  _ experimenting on Chris. 

“Piers, please...” 

He blinks, realizing how outraged he must look to get Chris to plead like this. “Sorry, I… I just wish I could do something.”

He shifts his stance, wincing at the pain that lances up his right arm. Just his luck that Merah would hit his dominant arm and make it all but useless. With more extensive rehabilitation, he could probably do more with it, but he doesn’t have the luxury of time or proper medical care right now.

“Things will be okay. I promise,” Chris says. 

Once Piers stops feeling sorry for himself and their situation, he takes more of the proffered food and scarfs it down. He needs to make himself as strong as possible, for when they make their move.

Chris squeezes his left shoulder reassuringly and leans in to whisper, “I got the codes for some of the doors, including yours.”

He does his best to keep his expression determined yet not overly attentive, so that it looks more like Chris is whispering words of encouragement instead of secret door codes and potential escape routes. When they move apart, he gives a vigorous nod, like he has just been inspired by a good pep talk. Finn is within earshot, but shows no visible sign of having heard such an important exchange. Smart kid.

“Finn, when you were moved, did you see anyone else here?” Chris asks, speaking at a normal volume.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Chris is thinking hard, before he seems to come to a decision of some sort. Finn notices as well. “What is it, Captain? Does he have someone else you know?”

“Not sure...I can’t think of anyone who might still be alive after everything. Listen,  _ if  _ he has someone else here, it’ll be risky to bring them out, no matter who they are.” 

Piers nods in understanding. He’s not sure what had prompted the question about other people in Wesker’s captivity, but he agrees with Chris. It is highly likely that any such person would be a subject of insane experimentation and as a result, be too unstable and dangerous to be allowed to roam free.

They continue to eat, though Chris doesn’t eat much and saves most of the food for them. Finn looks increasingly worried until he suddenly blurts out, “is...is he still hurting you?”

Chris shifts uncomfortably, eyes down on the table. “No, I’m okay. I don’t know what’s in his head, but he’s...not been hurting me. Not like before.” 

Piers isn’t sure if Chris is lying or not. There are no obvious signs of injury like before, but Chris still looks ...drained. 

“Did he...I mean...what exactly is he doing to you?” Finn asks. He really should have warned Finn beforehand to not ask questions like these, because he’s not sure if Chris is ready to give an answer. 

Chris lets out a long sigh, eyes downcast. “He’s...experimenting on me. He’s found out that I’m compatible with the same virus he is infected with. It’s why…” Chris gestures to his eyes. “It’s likely he’ll do something soon… I’ll try to keep him away from you two, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to...”

Piers hates what the madman is doing to Chris. It is troubling how few details Chris is giving, like there is something worse going on. He also dislikes how Chris is only preoccupied with helping them, rather than himself. Chris better not try to make himself a sacrificial lamb when they do make their escape. 

He gets it, partially. If Affini gets his way, Chris’s days in the B.S.A.A. are over. Even if they get out of here, Affini is likely to kick Chris out of the B.S.A.A., or worse yet, lock him up in a containment facility to be experimented on and throw away the key. If that happens, how many people would be caught in the crossfire, like with the massacre at the school, when Wesker tries to get Chris back? What will Affini be willing bargain and give up for the “greater good?”

“Piers?” Finn asks hesitantly. 

“Sorry, just thinking,” he mutters, angry with how easily he is giving in to despair. Chris has collected enough information to put together an escape plan. They just need to flesh it out. Finn has always shown promise when it comes to strategizing.

They sit down wordlessly in a circle. Chris pours them each a cup of coffee. They all think for a while, before falling into small talk to make things look less suspicious. He discreetly checks the ever-present security camera. Their secret exchange earlier should stay under the radar, as long as Wesker doesn’t review these security feeds too carefully.

“Will you be able to visit Jake and Sherry again?” Finn asks.

“I’ll try,” Chris answers, looking more enlivened. 

The next step is to pass on the information Chris collected to Jake and Sherry so they can coordinate their movements. Once they learn what Jake and Sherry are capable of doing, they can try to figure out a way to prevent Wesker from immediately going after them, maybe through a trap or a distraction of some sort? They can’t match Wesker in either speed or combat, so direct confrontation has to be avoided at all costs. Either way, they will get out of here, and get Chris away from the bastard who has been experimenting on him.

=

Jake watches the surveillance feed of the B.S.A.A. guys having their reunion. Chris looks much better, at least physically. Sherry is working on lunch, usually his job. Looks like they are going to be having sandwiches.  

“The three-legged pup is recovering,” he comments. Piers deserves that nickname, considering how much he seemed to follow Chris around like an eager puppy.

She swats at him half-heartedly. “Don’t be mean.”

“Just teasing!” he says, exaggeratedly dodging her swat. Yesterday, what happened at the school had hit him like a ton of bricks. His brain is combing through possibilities again, like what would have happened if they went to Lazar first instead of going for the helicopter and running into Wesker. Having seen the youngest one, Finn, take out a B.O.W. with nothing more than a knife, he can only seethe at what happened at the chapel. Who fucked things up so royally and let everyone there die? Ultimately, it is Wesker’s fault. If the psycho hadn’t been at the school, this whole thing wouldn’t have happened. 

For some unfathomable reason, Wesker gave him some files, about Chris of all people, to look over. Chris has a reputation, it seems. The man is a goddamn hero to some. He used to be part of a special police unit in a city that was nuked off the face of the planet, and is one of a few survivors of a major biohazard incident. Apparently, Wesker was Chris’s superior back when Chris was a cop. Ever since seeing the pictures in the files of Wesker as a police captain, Jake has made sure to avoid wearing the blue shirt and black pants together, like he did when Chris came over.

Sherry puts a hand on his shoulder. It must be obvious that the events are hitting him hard. He’s grateful for her warm presence and soft--

_ Focus, dumbass! You’re trapped with the psycho sperm donor who wants you to...wait… _

“You said you know Wesker from before.”

She looks surprised by the abrupt change in topic. “Yeah. He and my dad were friends.”

“And he knows about whatever turned you to Supergirl.”

She seems to figure out where he’s going with this and gives a sharp nod, but says nothing more. She is obviously not going to share the backstory.

“So...why drag me into this? The hell I got that’s so special besides half of his--”

The two look at each other, and everything clicks - the gilded cage, keeping the two of them together, the way Wesker was trying to act all buddy-buddy with them. He feels very, very ill.

Sherry is cute and will probably gut him if he ever tries anything. She deserves someone better, not some riffraff like him...

“...Forget I brought it up.”

She looks very much like she is going to have words with Wesker about this, then murder the man with one of the butter knives in the kitchen. He’d cheer her on, except they need Wesker alive to unlock the door. Once they get out of this place, they’ll kill him and dump the body into the nearest incinerator. 

“I get you want to say something to him, but maybe we shouldn’t, in case he takes it out on the others,” he says, suddenly the cautious one. Not that he is going to let Wesker dictate who he loves or what happens to any potential kids he ends up having. Bastard wasn’t there for him, but is interested in grandkids now all of a sudden? On the other hand, if Wesker has a lab here, forcing them to “have kids” by other means is also a very real possibility... 

“...do you know the distinguishing characteristic of the G-virus?” Sherry asks suddenly, not really looking at him but at a far-off spot on the wall. “The G-virus wants to propagate itself. Once it infects a host, it starts to override the host’s desires, making the host’s only goal to...find a suitable genetic match. I learned this after I got enough clearance.”

“Okay...” He doesn’t like where this is going and the way she is holding her stomach and side. She has had this look before, at the school, when she talked about the zombies, about what she saw in Racoon City. What the hell happened to her there?

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready...”

There are tears in her eyes. “I have to tell someone, or… My parents were researchers who studied the G-virus, but it was my dad’s work.  _ His _ , and no one else’s. Back then, Wesker told me that whatever my dad thought of as his, he would never let go of. It was a way to make me feel like my dad wouldn’t leave me, like he loved me…  After Raccoon City turned into a city of the dead, a monster started stalking me. The monster had...my father’s face, half of his body…” She shivers. “He found me... My mom and Claire, Chris’s sister, saved me.”

What Sherry is saying leaves some to the imagination, but not much. Sounds like her dad got infected by the very virus he was studying, which then overrode his brain and made him infect his own daughter to create more of itself.  

“I’m not going to let Wesker do this to us. Not to create some...some  _ better  _ version of anything. I won’t let that happen again.”

He nods, unsure what else to say. He is Wesker’s son just by happenstance. It is sheer, unfortunate coincidence that the psycho chose Magda Muller to deceive. How dare the bastard decide to suddenly control everything about them, yet never once ask about what happened to Mom after all those years when she raised a child alone amongst hardships and poverty. At this point, he has no idea what Wesker is thinking. Wesker must want grandkids really badly for whatever reason, Sherry or his free will be damned. Not happening! No matter how powerful Wesker is, he WON’T let that happen.

=

Wesker sighs in annoyance at the occasional beeping from an incoming call. He has been expecting this call since he set up his base of operations here. Sergei and Alex were “gifted” the area that consisted of the former Soviet Union, back when Umbrella was grandiose enough to make such declarations. Sergei is long dead, killed by Wesker’s own hand years ago. His sister continues to pursue her research interests on an island in the Baltic Sea. She and Alexia would have gotten along well, had they both not suffered from over-inflated egos. 

He accepts the call, but doesn’t turn on the video on his end. 

“ _ Albert, what is this I hear of you restarting the Progenitor-AO project?”  _ Alex asks rhetorically, looking smug about something. 

Straight to the point and not even a greeting. Typical. “This is old news, Alex. It was merely a prisoner of no great import who was inadvertently injected with a leftover sample. By the way, how are you and that young man doing? Is he ready to take up his old mantle?”

Her mouth is set in a hard line, indicating that she is irked about having the tables turned on her. He has always been better at keeping secrets than she, and he has learned all about her pet project to duplicate Spencer’s mind into a younger body. It explained the decrepit old man’s worse-than-usual mental state at their final meeting, probably a side effect of Alex’s imperfect technology. He wonders if the younger version suffers from similar mental deficits, if the mind transfer technology is indeed flawed.

“I don’t care much for you causing a biohazard incident in the vicinity of my son, Alex.”

“ _ I’m sure if you’d found him, you’d care that much more. _ ” 

He smirks. No need for her to know that he has already found his son. 

“ _ You always were too soft on children. You never approved of the orphanages. _ ”

“I never did because it was far easier to use adults. Children have immune systems that change so easily… Or have you forgotten how one illness so divided us? But enough reminiscing. You are not calling to catch up and you’re certainly not calling about a defunct project, so what are you calling about?”

“ _ Two things - the first is Blue Umbrella. They’ve thrown in their lot with the B.S.A.A. _ .”

Blue Umbrella used to be a small faction within Umbrella. Honestly he’d rather have worked with them instead of with White or Red. The two AI machines and their masters wrought more havoc than profit in the long run, resulting in the company’s ruin. Blue played it safe, and as a result, their people are still alive. It appears that they have developed a misplaced conscience and are now working to atone for Umbrella’s past sins. They also possess the research data from the original Progenitor-AO project, or so he heard. Speaking of which, he has further tested Chris’s blood and tissue samples. The changes in his point man are staggering and full of potential. There will have to be additional testing.

“What’s the second thing?”

“ _ You don’t care about Blue Umbrella?” _

“Umbrella Corporation has gone the way of the Roman Empire and its delusions of grandeur. Blue Umbrella may do whatever it likes. It concerns me not.”  

“ _ Have you had thoughts of taking it over? A returning Odysseus, back to claim his kingdom.” _

Since when did Alex become a purveyor of the classics, beyond that depressing Kafka fellow? 

“I have no interest in reclaiming Spencer’s legacy. What’s the second point, Alex? I have things to do.”

He imagines that it must take an immense effort for her to bite back her retorts. “ _ I hear you’re in my part of the world. Would you like me to send some men to assist you? _ ”

“So far there is no need, but I will let you know if I do need spies in my midst.” 

He abruptly ends the call and shakes his head. Alex referring to him as “Odysseus” is unexpected, given her utter lack of interest in the classics. In his youth, he was similarly disinterested in the classics, preferring the empiric discoveries available only in the sciences. He only read further about the myths later in his life because Lenka referenced them frequently, but has never delved deeper than necessary. Chris is his. What does he have to gain by calling Chris some sweet name of millenia past? 

He wonders if Alex’s new predilection for the classics is because she also had a visit from the hacker who set up that backdoor in his computer systems a few months ago. Besides stealing files from him, the hacker also left behind files named after various mythological characters. He had deleted those files without further perusal. 

He places a call to the mercenaries in his employ. “It’s time. I’ll need men, preferably those with past combat experience with B.O.W.s, stationed in the caves to supervise the subject for its upcoming test. Use whatever force necessary to keep it within parameters, but it needs to have one part of its body kept whole.” 

He examines the data readouts of the most recent version of the C-virus. In combination with Chris’s antibodies and Jake’s serum, this version of the C-virus will be the best to come from his and William’s work. The t-Veronica-infected corpse he collected from the Antarctic base luckily contained enough live virus to replicate for later use. Combining the two strains has not only advanced the C-virus, but also stabilized the Veronica strain. It will be interesting to see how the first recipient of the combined strain would do its upcoming field test.

“In the next few days, I will require additional men to monitor two other test subjects, in addition to the first. The latter two are expendable. I will provide further instruction when the time comes.”

Chris is far too attached to those two, and the test would cure him of that. His point man has no need for a spineless sycophant and a wounded dog. They deserve nothing better than to be experimented on then disposed of. It will all be for a worthy cause. Once he figures out to harness the regenerative potential of the C virus in a controlled manner, it will be quite the hot commodity.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris makes a misstep that sends Wesker into a bit of a spiral. Jake and Sherry are upset with everything said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings again for bad BDSM etiquette (so...torture) and Wesker just being a general idiot when it comes to reading how people react to his ideas...

Chris nibbles on the food left for him. He is alone in the room, attached by the collar to a chain that is long enough to let him lay comfortably on the bed and pace around a small area. Food and water are within reach, as is the toilet and shower. He is naked, forced to strip when he was returned to this room. Before leaving him alone this morning, Wesker put the collar back on and attached the chain to it, then bolted the other end of the chain to the floor. He didn't protest. If the choice is between this and something that will keep him completely immobilized and trapped, he’ll take this. 

The time with Piers and Finn yesterday was good, worth the humiliation and.... 

They must have suspicions about what is happening to him. Finn’s question had hit too close to home for it to be a coincidence. The truth is something only Jill knows about. Even Claire doesn't know the full extent of what Wesker is doing to him, and he plans to keep it that way. Jill found out because she saw the files that Wesker kept, but also because they have known each other for so long and have been through so much together. He keeps few secrets from her. 

If Jill or Claire has even a  _ hint  _ of where he is, they will definitely come for him. Jill will have the B.S.A.A. behind her, if Claire doesn’t arrive first once she finds out that both he and Sherry are here. Although...last time, they managed an escape because they were lucky enough to stumble  upon a drug that weakened Wesker… What will happen this time? They don’t have anything that will make Wesker easier to defeat. He shudders to think of the evil Wesker will do to the others if a rescue attempt fails, or to him once he is inevitably facing Wesker down for his freedom.

His mind automatically jumps to the things that Wesker has already done to him, making him lightheaded and numb. He forces himself to slowly breathe in and out until the feeling goes away. Fortunately, it doesn’t take as long this time due to the lack of anyone hovering over him. Once he is back to normal, he drinks from the water and eats more of the food to distract himself. 

When Wesker came to collect him last night from Piers and Finn, he was on his best behavior because Wesker seemed off the whole time. Not wanting to make things worse, he played at being good for the rest of the night, trying to act as nice as possible without coming across as overly pandering. The whole act grated on him, but he managed it. Wesker knows that he is willing to do pretty much anything to keep Piers and Finn safe, and is probably waiting for him to beg or offer to do something else. It is horrible how much the bastard can toy with him and force him into a corner. He also hates how the current downtime and comparatively nicer treatment is inevitably making him lower his guard around the very person who is waiting for him to break.

To look on the bright side, he noticed a few things he didn't previously on the way back to the torture room. He saw a few guards patrolling some of the floors. He also heard the sound of a large fan and a mechanical hum coming from a corridor in one of the lower floors. It must be a generator. 

He needs to see Sherry and Jake again so they can finalize their escape plans. Based on the door codes he memorized and what he knows of the building’s layout, there are a few potential routes they can take. They just need to figure out a way to slow Wesker down. Maybe that generator… Either way, they have to get out of here soon. The longer they stay, the more likely it is that Piers and Finn will be experimented on. While Wesker may like the idea of playing father to Sherry and Jake, there is no guarantee that will last. They’re old enough to not fall for Wesker’s bullshit.

Though Wesker was always good with kids in the past... **but too bad he has you instead of someone who can actually give him kids. Maybe he’ll give you another hole when he gets tired of your useless cock and sloppy ass.**

He grits his teeth, highly unsettled by the direction these thoughts are going. A slam of the door makes him jump. Wesker strides in, appearing to be in a foul mood once more. Scared, he backs up as far as the chain will let him. His captor is carrying a plate of food, some kind of fancy fruit, cheese, and cold cuts platter, but that is not enough to stop his retreat. Eyes flashing yellow behind the sunglasses, Wesker grabs the chain and drags him forward. His feet skid along the floor as he unthinkingly pulls against the chain in a bizarre game of tug-of-war. He is surprised when he manages to hold his ground against Wesker for longer than expected.

“Being difficult again, Chris? Are we back to that already?” Wesker snarls.

The venom in his captor’s voice stops his resistance immediately. He staggers forward, pulled by the chain, until he is pressed against the other man. The fabric of Wesker’s clothing rubs uncomfortably against his bare skin, making him shiver in sudden panic. Textures have never bothered him before. Is he losing it? Or is the virus doing something to him?  

“How typical of you to rebel the moment you get a taste of freedom… Perhaps I’ve been overindulging all of you. I should have put you all in a cell, because nobody is grateful for the leeway I’m granting.”

Not sure what he can say to placate the madman, he hangs his head in a show of contrition. Wesker seems to buy it, if the change from scratchy fabric to soft touches is anything to go by. However, the touches that previously felt so good are now accompanied by a burning, prickling pain. Holding back shudders, he forces himself to keep a straight face. He wants to get away, but does not dare move from his spot.

Sitting down on the bed and letting go of the chain, Wesker picks up the plate of food and offers up a morsel, like he is a dog being given a treat for learning a trick. He opens his mouth.  _ It’s just fuel to help me get the others out of here. I can’t let myself get too weak. _

“W-what happened?”

“Aren’t you curious.” Wesker eats some of the food before offering him another bite. “My son and Will’s daughter are upset about a number of things. They decided to air their grievances when I went to check on them this morning.” Wesker tuts in annoyance, a sound Chris knows too well, before running a hand through his hair and down his back, as if he were a prized animal. He is unable to hold back a twitch as he is assaulted by the burning pain again. “They don’t believe that I know what’s best for them. Clearly, they are under the mistaken impression that relying on the government and the other powers that be, which have not treated them well in the past, will be a better option.” 

He stays silent and tries to look sympathetic while Wesker rants, prattling on and on about how he has Sherry and Jake’s best interests at heart, as if it should be common sense for those two kids to want a deranged maniac dictating their lives.. Wesker continues to touch him absent-mindedly. By this point, he is trembling from the pain accompanying the touches, confused and terrified by what is happening. He says nothing. Wesker can’t be allowed to find yet another weakness to use against him. 

“Were you and the other kids like you kept by Umbrella?” he ventures, hoping to convince Wesker to give Sherry and Jake some space. From the information he learned over the years, the lives of the Wesker children were controlled by Spencer. Bringing this up could completely backfire, but he has no other ideas on how to change Wesker’s mind or mood. “Do you really want the same thing for Jake and Sherry? To be under your thumb like you were under Spencer’s?”

The reptilian eyes rake over him appraisingly, but Wesker shows no obvious signs of anger and pulls on the chain to bring him closer.

“You are saying that I’m like Spencer?”

“In this, yes, you are,” he replies, unable to keep his mouth shut. “They’ve both been through a lot and they barely know you. They aren’t gonna do everything you say.”

If Wesker goes too far in this, Jake and Sherry will be badly hurt. The mess of memories from his time under P30 is still discombobulating at times and gives him nightmares beyond the ones that make him feel utterly ashamed. He can’t let Wesker get any ideas about using the mind control drug on them. 

Seeming deep in thought, Wesker continues to run a hand up and down his back. For some reason, the sensations gradually change from painful to soothing. He is so relieved that he can’t help but relax into the touches. Wesker looks pleased and feeds him another morsel. 

“Do you want to talk to them, then?” Wesker whispers into his ear. “Get them to understand what I want, what they  _ should  _ want?”

“What  _ do  _ you want from them?” He shakes his head free of Wesker’s hand to get rid of the good, almost sedating, feeling that is lowering his guard against the shameful thing Wesker has over him. He needs to be able to think right now, not lulled into a false sense of calm and security while reveling in the touch of a  _ rapist _ . 

The corner of Wesker’s mouth tips up in amusement, no doubt because Wesker is aware of the effect these touches have on him. He feels increasingly uneasy at the lack of an answer. How can he be expected to convince Sherry and Jake to do something if he isn't even told what that something is? Even when he was being tortured to the point of breaking in the past, it was done for an obvious reason that was either inferrable or explicitly explained to him. That Wesker is being so coy now makes him extremely concerned that Wesker has something even more terrible planned. 

“Tell me!”

“Very well. If you insist. You will explain to them that I plan to keep them and their future children safe. It truly is in everyone’s best interests to cooperate.” 

He is confused by the answer. Future children? Wesker pulls him close again and steers him by the chain and collar. To preoccupied with figuring out the meaning of Wesker’s answer, he doesn’t realize where he is being led until Wesker is guiding him down to lay on the bed. He suddenly figures it out. The psycho wants to force Sherry and Jake to have kids, together! Probably so Wesker can perform experiments on those kids in order to further his research on viruses and B.O.W.s! Terrified for them, Chris lashes out without thinking. His attack must have been completely unexpected, because he is somehow able to throw Wesker onto the floor with less difficulty than he expects.

He sees Wesker move in preparation to strike, something he couldn't have before, and dodges just in time. He tries to get some distance between them, but Wesker reels him back by the chain and hits him hard across the jaw. The hit hurts so much more than usual, leaving him doubled over. 

“How dare you object to my methods in dealing with my own son. You think you have the right?”

He coughs, trying to catch his breath. “I know they won't want this.”

Another punch nearly puts him on the ground. He is kept upright only by Wesker’s hold on the chain. 

“Do you now. Where are you getting your ideas from?”

He does his best to keep on fighting, but ends up off balance due to the way he is being held. He is pushed onto the floor, Wesker on top of him and gripping his hair tightly in order to unlock the chain from the collar. His body hurts everywhere that Wesker touches, like he is being shocked by a live wire. Wesker then hauls him towards the part of the room with the torture devices. The additional contact sets more of his skin alight with fiery pain. He struggles madly in an attempt to get away, only to be grabbed more tightly. 

“While we’re doing your attitude adjustment, we should also see if you can give me a reason to keep those two B.S.A.A. lap dogs alive. They must be a bad influence, given how poor your behavior gets after you see them. We’ll be better served to use them for research.”

Rage and horror clouds his mind. He stuns Wesker with a well-placed punch to the solar plexus, then lands a kick while the man is incapacitated. He races to the door, yanking ferociously at the collar until it rips apart, only to realize that the door is locked and he doesn’t know the code. He tugs at it maniacally, desperate to get to Piers and Finn, but it is too heavily reinforced and doesn’t budge an inch. Wesker is on him again and nearly grabs him by the neck. Scrambling away, he catches Wesker’s arm and twists the limb in an attempt to dislocate it, but Wesker is stronger and dislodges him. Still, he has been facing opponents more powerful than him for the past ten years. He can’t give up. Using every trick in the book, he fights tooth and nail. He has to stop Wesker now, or everyone will be dead or experimented on! 

Wesker gets in a lucky strike. The contact sends a massive shock through him, knocking him nearly senseless. It goes downhill from there. Another series of hits to his midsection makes him gag and heave so hard that he throws up. 

Next thing he knows, he is bent at the waist over a wooden frame, his hip bones pressing uncomfortably against the wood. Before he can get himself upright, something heavy is placed over his back and clicks into place, trapping him in this humiliating position with his head down and ass in the air. His ears are ringing from the hits he took, his knuckles bloodied from hits he dished out. He thrashes in the contraption, hoping to break or loosen it in some way, but it is bolted to the floor and too sturdy. The only thing he succeeds in doing is scrabbling his fingers and toes against the floor. When he senses Wesker behind him, he tries to kick in hopes of landing a hit, but that comes to an end when his ankles are cuffed and locked to either side of the frame, making any sort of leverage to get out of the device impossible.

He doesn’t stop struggling, the impending danger to Jake, Sherry, Piers, and Finn at the forefront of his mind. The part of him that wants to whimper and beg for forgiveness is silenced by fear and rage over Wesker’s threats. Whatever happens to him will be fine. He’ll be damned if he lets Wesker touch the others. Better the bastard is angry at him and punishing him. He can take whatever Wesker dishes out, even with the new power Wesker has over him.

Wesker licks the blood off of his already healed split lip, a dangerous expression in his eyes. Chris feels somewhat vindicated when he sees the vomit staining Wesker’s expensive shoes and pants. Hopefully they are ruined forever. 

When Wesker approaches, he throws an off-balanced punch at Wesker’s legs, only for his wrists to be grabbed and cuffed. He starts thrashing again from the pain accompanying the touches, but can’t stop the cuffs from being secured to the wooden frame, rendering him completely helpless.

“Since you’re so determined, I’ll keep your B.S.A.A. friends around for another day or two, until the new year. After that, they’ll have to prove their worth, and I doubt they will succeed.” 

Pulling his head up by the hair, Wesker kneels down and bites down hard on his left shoulder. He screams, vision starting to darker from a combination of pain and nausea. When Wesker bites down on the other shoulder, he blacks out. 

He is woken by agony in his lower back so intense that he can’t even scream due to his throat clamping up. When the pain finally ends, Wesker walks back into sight, a cattle prod in hand. Some time must have passed, because Wesker is wearing different clothes. His shoulders feel tacky. Searing pain shoots through them at the smallest movement. There are two patches of drying blood on the floor below him. In front of him, various torture devices and restraints have been set out for him to see, including the manacles that he woke up in when he first got here and the board he was restrained to with the plastic wrap. He begins to hyperventilate.

Wesker presses the tip of the cattle prod against his inner thigh. “You will be an example, to show them what will happen to someone who repeatedly refuses to listen to reason.” 

This time, he screams when the electricity jolts him, bodying spasming involuntarily in the odd position he is stuck in. Painful aftershocks shoot through him at each movement, which only serve to remind him of the other times he was punished in this awful contraption. He struggles hard in hopes of finding some weakness or give in the wooden frame, but hears only an occasional creak. 

Another shock. Looking anywhere but at Wesker, he attempts to gather his wits and somehow think of a way out of this situation, but there is no escape. 

“You seem to understand now that you’ve misbehaved, but that’s not enough, Chris, not by half. Nothing you do is going to change your punishment now. You, Jake, Sherry - all of you  _ will  _ listen, or I will not be as kind as I have been.”

The prod is placed against his chest. He tries to jerk away, to no avail. Wesker digs it into various parts of his body, making him cry out again and again. When the pain stops, he is trembling and panting raggedly. Wesker moves behind him and returns holding a stick that will probably cut into his skin like a knife through butter. Increasingly fearful and desperate, he bristles when Wesker approaches.

“Aren’t you just full of righteous indignation? You brought this upon yourself.” Wesker taps the stick leisurely against the side of his oxford shoes. 

Chris gathers up his remaining energy for one last insult. “Fuck off.”

The stick stops tapping. There is a sharp swish before it is brought down on his back. 

=

Jake does his best to reign in his anger as he gets lunch ready. The nerve of that asshole! Who the hell does he think he is? Blood relation or not, he is  _ not  _ going to have his life dictated out by some madman with delusions of godhood. That is some bad sci-fi shit right there. He has never liked sci-fi, never mind bad sci-fi. He smacks the piece of chicken with the meat tenderizer. 

“Jake, I think the chicken is pretty...um...tenderized.”

He hits the chicken one more time and puts the tenderizer aside. It is oddly domestic that Wesker came in earlier this morning during breakfast and stayed the whole time, though it ended in a massive confrontation over the kids issue. Before then, the psycho would only pop in at inopportune moments and not stay for long, like when he brought Chris over for them to feed and care for before waltzing off with nary a word. Wesker probably thinks he can convince them to cooperate by putting more effort into playing house.

He chops up a few condiments for the stuffed chicken dish he is making in order to distract himself. He hasn’t cooked as much since becoming a mercenary, but he has had a lot of prior experience from being taught by Mom, then cooking for the two of them after her health failed. He had to learn a lot of tricks back then about how to make tasty food on a very limited budget. While Sherry can keep herself fed, her cooking skills seem to be limited to sandwiches and microwavable foods, though in her defense, she does know how to make many kinds of sandwiches. To get some variety in their meals, he has been the one doing most of the cooking ever since they were kidnapped.  

He adds the finishing touches before putting the chicken in the oven and setting the timer. 

“So...now what? I mean, he’s obviously pissed at us for not doing what he wants. He’s not gonna be nice.”

“I’m...I’m not letting that happen. I’m not going to let him do that to us. I don’t…I don’t care. That’s just...wrong.” Sherry shakes her head adamantly.

“Good. I’m not about to give in either, especially not to scratch whatever itch that asshole has.” 

Once the chicken is done baking, they bring it to the piano room with the intention of eating there, only to see Wesker. The psycho looks put-together like usual - styled hair, sunglasses, fancy clothes - but something about him sends a chill down Jake’s spine. It reminds him of a predator about to toy with its prey.  

He steps between Wesker and Sherry, in time to see her sneak one of the dinner knives into her sleeve. 

“Come with me.”

Jake is about to make a biting retort, but a touch from Sherry stops him. They put the food down and approaches Wesker, who scrutinizes them before holding out his hand toward Sherry, expression getting darker.

“I’ve entertained your childish behavior long enough. Don’t think I won’t discipline you  _ like  _ children if you don’t stop acting like one.”

Sherry looks about to explode, but does hand over the knife. Wesker takes it  before motioning for them to walk ahead of him. Jake glances back when he hears a thud, like something hitting a wall, but quickly looks away when Wesker glares at him. Seeing how unnerved Sherry is by Wesker’s behavior, Jake unthinkingly grabs her hand. There are three armed guards waiting outside. With Wesker around, trying to overpower the guards will be more hassle than it’s worth, so he bides his time. He squeezes Sherry’s hand as they head towards the lower floors, away from the relative safety and comfort of their gilded cage. Unlike the upper floors of the building, the lower floors are set up like a creepy lab. They pass by a number of observation rooms, containment cells, and rooms with research equipment.

They stop in front of a nondescript locked door. Wesker enters a code into the keypad. Jake tries to inconspicuously sneak in a glance, but a guard is standing in the way. He only sees enough of Wesker’s movements to guess that the code ends in a six or nine, and that the code is six digits total. 

Wesker waves them into the room. Jake is taken aback by the sight that greets them. Sherry gasps in fright.

Chris is hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, toes barely touching the floor. He is unconscious and completely naked, so badly beaten that he looks almost like a slab of raw meat. Blood is spattered on the floor underneath him. The room is full of cuffs, ropes, and weirdly shaped frames like it’s a damned dungeon from some BDSM porno, except these don’t look like they are for play. The table behind Chris has some medical supplies on it. The rest of it is taken up by sticks and a cattle prod, all of which are covered in blood. 

Wesker examines them coolly with an expression that brokers no argument. “The three of you are failing to grasp that I am doing this for your own good. I’ll leave you to talk amongst yourselves and see if you can’t learn to behave. If not, it’s your hide next, Jake.”

Jake glares daggers at Wesker and heads in. Sherry is already by Chris’s side. The door closes behind them.

Thankfully, Sherry is unfazed about being around a naked man. He instructs her to hold Chris steady while he slowly lowers the chain that Chris is hanging from. The man jerks awake from the jostling.

“S-stop,” Chris’s voice is hoarser than when he came to eat with them, and his eyes are unfocused. “Don’t...hurt them...don’t…”

“Chris, we’re here, you’ll be ok,” Sherry attempts to soothe, though Chris doesn’t seem to hear her and continues to mumble deliriously. Jake gets the shackles off of Chris’s bloody wrists, but the subsequent pain causes Chris to become agitated and struggle against their hold. 

“Stop it!” Jake says more harshly than intended, worried that Chris will hurt himself further. Chris flinches violently and settles down, trembling and staring ahead with glassy eyes. Jake feels a stab of guilt, but at least they are able to move him to the nearby bed without incident. They lay him facedown on the bed because the injuries on his back are worse, though the front doesn’t look good either. His body is densely covered in long lines of bloody welts and gouges. Overlaying the wounds are cuts from a knife. The few patches of unbroken skin are bruised or swollen from what looks like electrical burns. He is honestly not sure if Chris will survive this, never mind be able to make an escape. 

While Sherry stays with Chris, Jake retrieves the meager amount of medical supplies on the table - a bottle of alcohol and bandages. As the alcohol is applied to a gouge on his back, Chris tenses and grips Sherry’s hand more tightly, but makes no other movement or noise. He passes out again a minute or two later, which is probably for the best. Sherry carefully removes her hand from his grip in order to help with cleaning and bandaging. It takes a long time for them to treat all the serious wounds. It is a small mercy that Chris remains unconscious throughout. After they are done, they put a blanket over him and let him rest.

With Chris out of commision, there is not much they can do besides wait. Since Chris seems to react more favorably to her, Sherry remains next to him to calm him whenever he thrashes in his sleep. Trying his best to ignore the freaky sex dungeon vibes, Jake thoroughly searches the room for anything useful and finds a few sets of clean clothes like the ones Chris has worn previously. Otherwise, he comes up empty-handed except for more restraints and torture devices. He seriously considers taking one of the sturdy-looking sticks to use as a weapon later, until they can get something better, but decides against it after a brief glance at Chris. On the bright side, there appear to be no cameras or bugs in this room that he can find.

He moves to the door next and tries to figure out what his sperm-donor set as a code. Given that it is six digits, it may be a date, though he can’t think of any important dates that ends in a six or nine. He tries a few anyway -- his birthday, the date Mom said she met dad -- but none of them work. Feeling resigned, he goes to sit down at the other end of the bed. He and Sherry exchange a few words before the conversation peters out. They sit in silence for a long while.

“Jake!” Sherry suddenly whispers in excitement. The B.S.A.A. agent is stirring fitfully, eyelids fluttering open. Maybe it is just a trick of the light, but his eyes seem redder than the last time they saw him?

“...Sherry?” Chris finally notices her. “What...how...did…”

“Wesker and some guards brought us here. We’re gonna get you well enough so we can get out of here. We’re not going to stay here anymore.”

“You...get out...I...slow…” Chris goes through a full-body shudder. “Leave me...I’ll slow you down…”

“Bullshit, I’ve carried heavier than you. No man left behind,” Jake cuts in. “We’ll get out of here as soon as we get the door open.”

Chris seems to be having some sort of inner debate on whether to argue a point they will not budge on, or to accept what they are offering and just roll with it.

“We have to...be quick,” Chris finally concedes. “Piers is...hurt, and I think...the B.S.A.A....isn’t going to...want me anymore...”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear from all of us,” Jake says. Chris is probably still confused from being tortured for who knows how long. Why would the B.S.A.A. not want their most successful agent back?

They help Chris sit up and put on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He is relieved to see that all of the wounds appear to have partially healed and a few of the shallow wounds are completely gone, even though the speed of healing is far slower than Sherry’s. Things are looking up. They need to get Chris out of here before Wesker goes crazy again.

“Chris, how long before you can walk?”

“I…” Chris swallows, looking almost afraid.

Sherry nods. “Don’t worry. Just rest for now while we figure out the code for the door.”

“Do we have anything to go on?” Chris asks.

“Six digits. Probably ends in a six or nine. My first guess is a date of some sort, but none of the ones I’ve tried are right.”

Chris’s entire demeanor changes, suddenly looking extremely alert. 

“Listen, if we decide to act now, it’ll be all or nothing. Once we get the door open, we will go one floor below us. There is a generator there. The two of you will disable the generator, which should activate the emergency quarantine and lock down the lab areas, if this Umbrella facility is designed anything like the others. This should delay Wesker from coming after us if he is in the lab. I will get Piers and Finn another floor below. The two of you will wait for us for seven minutes after you disable the generator. If we don’t show up by then, head for the exit. It’s on the ground floor. Do you know how to get there?”

Jake nods, speechless. Chris must have been planning this for a while. How Chris is able to cook up this plan and collect the intel while being beaten half to death, he doesn’t know. 

“Um yes. Also, we’ve searched this room. There is nothing we can use as a weapon.”

Chris grunts in acknowledgment and gets out bed. Sherry tries to convince him to stay put, but he doesn’t listen. He walks towards the keypad with a single-minded fixation, showing no sign of his injuries besides a slight limp. He enters a code, which doesn’t work, then tries another. On the second try, the keypad beeps and the door unlocks. Jake exchanges a disbelieving look with Sherry. Is this really happening?

“Chris, how did you…”

“Bastard used the day I joined as the code...” Chris says under his breath, mostly to himself. “Come on!”

They rush out the room, heading towards the stairs. There are two armed guards around the corner of the corridor that Chris seems to detect long before he and Sherry do. Chris lunges at them and snaps their necks so quickly that Jake doesn’t even have time to blink before the two guards are dead on the floor. 

None of them say a thing as they drag the bodies into a side room and strip them of weapons and gear. 

“Take some of their clothes too. We’re going to need them when we get outside. If Wesker shows up, I’ll--”

“I said I’ll carry you out, and I definitely will if you keep that up,” Jake says. “We’re all getting out of here.”

They encounter three more guards on the way, all of whom are summarily dispatched, and make it to the generator in under a few minutes. It seems like their escape hasn’t been discovered yet.

“I’m going to get the others. You two get creative with the generator. We’ll rendezvous here seven minutes after lights out.”

“As long as you’re come back, Chris,” Sherry says, as if she knows something. “Please, Chris… He’s not going to let you live if we get away and you’re left behind.”

Chris is quiet for a long moment, his expression shuttered. “He will let me live, but he doesn’t need me sane for what he wants from me.” 

“We’ll have to make sure we all get out of this place then.” Jake shifts uncomfortably, really not wanting to think about Wesker’s craziness right now when they are so close to freedom. 

Chris looks at them one more time before departing. “Remember, if we’re not here in seven minutes, you guys run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look at them get ready to run! 
> 
> Also I need to give Chris a hug for all I'm doing to him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group begin their escape, hoping to put distance between them and Wesker...

Finn almost jumps when the door opens and the Captain walks in, dressed in combat gear and packing a few guns. The Captain is here to save them?

“Grab what you can. We’re getting out of here.”

Piers immediately goes to collect the remaining rations, about the only useful things in this room. Kneeling down with a sharp inhale, Chris motions for Finn to stay and examines the leg shackles. He looks around for anything else that they can use.

The sound of metal warping and breaking makes him look down in surprise. Chris is holding the chain connecting the leg shackles, now broken in two.  

“We’ll figure out how to get the shackles off you later,” Chris says, dropping the two ends of the chain. “We’re meeting Sherry and Jake a floor up.”

He nods and takes the rations from Piers, not wanting Piers to have to carry things with only one good arm. They follow Chris out and fortunately don’t encounter anyone. The lights suddenly go out while they are in the stairwell, before the dimmer emergency lights flicker on. The building must be running on auxiliary power now.

“Good, it looks like they’ve disabled the generator,” Chris says.

He has so many questions about what the plan is and how Chris managed to do all this, but doesn’t want to distract Chris right now. They go up a few flights of stairs and through the dimly lit hallways until they reach the entrance to a large room. Jake is there, standing on guard with a gun. He lowers the gun upon seeing them.

“This generator won’t be working for a while…” Jake smirks, pointing behind him to what looks to be the building’s generator. It is completely silent. “There’s some extra weapons and clothes for you guys. Even found some boots that should fit. We’ll need them once we get out.” Jake waves to the pile of supplies. 

Finn puts on the clothes as quickly as possible. The clothes are still warm, like someone has been wearing them recently. He decides to not think about where these clothes came from. To speed things along, Chris helps Piers, who looks almost upset with himself. While they are scrambling to get the clothes on, Chris gives them a rundown of the plan.

“Thank goodness most of this place isn’t set up with cameras, or else they would have found us by now,” Sherry says as she puts away the remaining supplies into a backpack. 

“Wesker isn’t rampaging around after us yet, so I’m guessing he’s locked down in the lab. We need to put as much distance between us as possible before he gets out,” Chris says. “There are a few hired guns here, but we’ll handle them. I’ll take point. Finn, you watch our backs.” 

Finn nods vigorously, feeling reassured by the old authority coming back into the Captain’s voice. His heart is bursting with hope as they follow Chris towards freedom.

=

The snow storm hits them hard. Everyone huddles together as much as possible, with Chris and Jake at the front. They are somewhere in Russia, as confirmed by the one guard they left alive for interrogation. Other means of transportation can’t be used due to the severity of the snow storm, so Chris had pressed the guard for more information. After another dose of intimidation, made easier by how quickly he killed the guard’s compatriots, the guard eventually revealed that they can get to a nearby town using tunnels that Umbrella excavated into the mountains. While Chris wants to believe they can get help from the authorities at the town, he is wary. The town is either mostly blissfully ignorant of what is going on, or very aware and in full cahoots with Wesker’s operation. They’ll have to go about carefully once they reach the town.

“Damn, he just had to choose something in the middle of nowhere,” Jake mutters, looking around for the entrance to the tunnels. Their visibility is shot, with the darkening horizon and being buffeted by the snow storm. Sherry pulls her jacket more tightly around her. Piers is shivering and appears to be in pain, despite Finn trying to shield him from the cold. They have to keep moving and get out of this cold. With their meager head start, stopping or getting lost is dangerous. If they aren’t quick, Wesker will catch up to them.

“Let’s keep moving.” He rushes ahead and scans the area. The virus must have enhanced his vision, because he spots the entrance to the tunnels carved into the mountain side, looking like a naturally formed cave. He immediately guides the group towards it. They just need to reach the town and send a distress call to the B.S.A.A…. He isn’t sure if his own distress code will work, but Piers and Finn’s will. If anything, the three codes will get Jill’s attention.

_ Jill… _ He suddenly feels more cold and alone. He may have a slight head start, but due to whatever it is that ties Wesker to him now, Wesker will definitely be coming for him. He can’t bring himself to even imagine what will happen if Wesker catches him this time. He wants to see Jill again, for her to make things alright and protect them from the psycho coming after them, but in the back of his mind, he knows that escaping back to the B.S.A.A. won’t be the end of things. The B.S.A.A. will keep him around, and this time it won’t be on the payroll. He will probably be indefinitely quarantined so they can do tests on him. Jake, a survivor of the school, may be in danger of the same fate. He’ll have to talk to Jake about how to handle this, once they get to town. Jake going off on his own will make him more vulnerable and it’ll break Sherry’s heart, given how much the two of them obviously care for one another. But he’s not sure if there is an alternative. Jake is in as much danger as he is, maybe more so. 

He hates that he’ll have to disappear once the B.S.A.A. is on its way to help them. He has to lead Wesker away from them. With how well they’re working together, they’ll be able to handle themselves once Wesker is out of the picture.

=

Sherry is worried about Chris. She can’t help but fear that the moment they take their eyes off of him, he’s going to leave and not come back. She feels a surge of determination to bring Chris back to his sister. Claire was so worried about him when she came to look for him in Raccoon City all those years ago, and should never have to go through that again. Though some part of her worries he’ll be taken by the government, like she was when Leon and Claire had to give her up, but in hindsight, she had it easy with the government. They provided for her and didn’t leave her wanting for much. She was even able to see Claire and Leon on occasion and later on choose her own path. Maybe it will turn out okay even if Chris ends up in government custody for a while, as long as he is safe from Wesker.

They entered the tunnels a few minutes ago and have encountered nothing except for a map and a few old bulletins posted on the wall. The bulletins are all marked with the red and white Umbrella logo, faded from age. Judging from the map, the way out looks to be a straight shot. The layout of the tunnels is simple, with only a few side rooms and corridors off shooting from the main path. 

They are moving as quickly as possible while attempting to be discreet, though they have yet to run into anyone. Despite the lack of activity, human or otherwise, Chris looks uneasy, vigilantly checking every corner and frequently looking behind them. 

“Stay alert. I don’t like this.”

“What, a creepy tunnel that probably has a stockpile of B.O.W.s stashed somewhere? What’s not to like?” Jake says, clearly on edge as well. Piers glares at Jake and opens his mouth, probably to say something about Jake’s attitude, but Chris gives both of them a look that stops them from starting anything. 

Chris goes to confer with Piers, the two talking in low voices. Piers sounds upset about something while Chris is shaking his head in disagreement. While they wait, Jake tries for the second time to pick the lock to Finn’s shackles with a piece of metal wire they found and finally succeeds. Finn sighs in relief as the shackles are finally removed. 

“I can take point next,” Jake says. “I want to help out.”

Chris’s brows are pinched in concern. “That’s our job. Your job is to get out of here alive.”

Jake doesn’t argue, though he turns his head sullenly to the side. 

Further into the tunnel, they find another map posted on the wall. Their current location is marked on the map, indicating that they are more than halfway to the exit. 

“We’re not far, but near the end are a few more side corridors and extra rooms that could be hiding enemies,” Chris says.

Piers looks pale and increasingly worn out. She hopes he will be able to tolerate the cold once they are out in the elements again. Jake isn’t above carrying him, and from the looks of it, neither is Chris.

There is a sudden cry of pain in the distance, though something about it sounds off. Beckoning the rest of them to stay put, Chris approaches cautiously. She fights back the urge to run towards the source of the scream. She remembers the man in one of the tubes in Wesker’s lab, back when she and Jake had access to the cameras. If he is down here, they have to help him!

=

Wesker snarls as he finally forces the reinforced door open and throws it aside. It had locked automatically after the power went out, a failsafe to prevent any ongoing experiments or test subjects from getting loose during a power failure. Never did he expect this safety feature to be used against him. The lighting outside is dim, indicating the building is running on auxiliary power. He wants to scream for Chris, but he doubts Chris is still here. The only ones who could have planned this are his unruly son and his willful, ungrateful Chris. Sherry is no doubt swept along by their bad influence. The sudden loss of power has interrupted some of his ongoing experiments. He can’t tell what is still viable and what is ruined. He is inundated with anger at Chris. The nerve Chris must have, to commit this  _ betrayal  _ after all he has done for Jake and Sherry to keep them out of harm’s way, and all his efforts to ensure that no harm could ever come to Chris again… Instead, Chris is continuing to argue, fight, and deny what they have together. The repeated attempts to escape his rightful place are unacceptable, especially when they have escalated to this point.

Not again. This time, he will not allow Chris another chance to rebel. How dare Chris defy him again! How DARE Chris attempt to escape him again!

He can’t imagine why Chris would be so blind as to not realize what they have together. When he first claimed Chris and sampled what he’d been missing for all those years, it did not take him long to realize that he should have brought Chris with him years ago, and to rectify that mistake immediately. Chris, on the other hand, has remained arrogant and defiant months later… He wants to preserve that defiance, but not if Chris is going to rebel to this extent.  

Chris’s irrational behavior is insufferable. Even now, Chris is trying to go back to an organization that would have him killed, all for the sake of the two B.S.A.A. underlings. The wounded dog should have been put down the moment it came barking for Chris. The other is young and could have been cowed with the right methods, though at this stage it is hardly worth the effort to do so. Sherry and his insolent son will be dealt with. They will be fine, especially with Chris to help raise them, but until they repent of their behavior, they will not be staying in such luxury.

His hired men hesitantly confirm over the radio that Chris and the others have absconded, and that the generator is likely irreparable in the short term. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he heads towards the building’s main entrance to catch up with the search party, which has already gone ahead in pursuit of the escapees. He is going to get Chris back. The others are of lower priority. If they somehow manage to scurry back to the people who nearly succeeded in killing Chris, then good riddance.

“Move whatever is still viable to the backup facility, but prepare an observation room at the current facility. I have use of it once I’m through here,” he informs the remaining mercenaries. “Personnel in the tunnels should direct the test subjects near to the exit to slow down the escaped prisoners. I will be there shortly.”  

Chris is going to pay dearly for this outright rebellion. If the B.S.A.A. underlings are captured alive, they will be used to teach Chris a lesson about the consequences of betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this will end well...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the escape and aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, fair warning - at the end of this chapter is some SERIOUS non-con, torture (not bad BDSM practices, but actual torture), and some gore. I know, I tag for this stuff, but writing this was VERY HARD. So the massive warning here is for heavier torture, gore, and rape.

As Chris advances towards the source of the scream, a strange humming sound, almost like a melody of some kind, begins to overlay his senses. For some reason, it reminds him of something he heard when he went to the Antarctic base to save Claire. The noise turns out to be from a B.O.W. that resembles the plant-like zombies he encountered in the past, except with more mobile “vines.” The B.O.W. is covered in strange pustules, like the infected girl they had to put down at the school. Feeling increasingly on edge, he kills it before it can make another sound and runs back to the others. They have to leave this area as quickly as possible. Who knows how many more of these B.O.W.s are around here. Things will turn south if Wesker catches up, but he trusts the others to handle themselves if he can keep Wesker occupied. He is stronger than before, even though he has not fully tested his abilities. He has not said anything to Wesker about the changes he has undergone, though after that fight, Wesker probably has some idea of what he is capable of.

“We’re getting closer,” Jake says as they pass by another map. They are almost at the exit. Despite leaning on him for support, Piers is dragging his feet from the long trek, face scrunched in pain. Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to raid the infirmary for painkillers before they left.

“Need me to check that exit?” Jake motions towards the large gate some distance away at the end of the hallway.

“Double check if we have anything for pain. I’ll clear the exit,” Chris says to make them stay put, still on edge from the monster earlier. 

While Sherry and Jake are distracted with searching the supplies for pain medicine that isn’t there, Piers allows the full extent of the discomfort to show on his face, nearly pitching forward. Chris grabs Piers by the good shoulder. “We’re almost out of here.”

“Fuck,” Piers growls under his breath, looking at Jake and Sherry. “I’m slowing everyone down, I…”

“We’re not leaving without you. Besides, Jake will come back for you the second he notices you’re gone,” he says, trying to keep things light but not really succeeding. Jake and Sherry are determined. So are Piers and Finn. They will do anything to get the two civilians out alive. He remembers being that way once.

_I would never leave anyone behind. I would be the first to go back for them._

_That’s what Clay had over me, and why Beck hated me._

“Piers, it’s still going to hurt, but I’ll carry you after I scout out that hallway, okay? We--” He suddenly detects a faint ringing sound that makes his hackles rise. It’s from somewhere above them and approaching fast. Their time has run out. “We have to leave now!”

“I can carry him,” Finn says, quickly figuring out what’s going on. 

He shakes his head and hands Finn his extra gun. “I got him. Run!”

Finn grabs the gun and runs towards the gate, Jake and Sherry in tow. Chris picks up Piers as gently as possible and follows. Piers hisses in pain from the jostling, but makes no other sounds. Before they get to the gate, his senses pick up on an immediate threat -- more B.O.W.s approaching them from the side. 

“Keep going!” he orders. The others are running full speed towards the gate. However, B.O.W.s swarm out of a side corridor behind them, followed by guards in the scaffolding and platforms above, out of the way of the B.O.W.s. Finn opens fire on the B.O.W.s that are about to catch up. Chris puts Piers down to help dispatch them. Jake and Sherry stop in the midst of lifting up the gate, clearly wanting to help, but Finn shouts at them to keep going. To his relief, they listen and get through. A B.O.W. charges towards the gate, forcing Jake to let the gate fall to the ground lest it gets through. The monster slams against the gate so hard that the bars are deformed. Finn disposes of the monster while it is stunned and tries to lift the gate again, but it is jammed. 

“No!” Sherry screams from the other side, pulling ineffectually at the bars.

“Keep going! We’ll find another way!” He tears into the B.O.W.s with a combat knife, trying to clear a way out of the dead end they are trapped in now that the gate can’t be opened. Ultimately, Jake seems to realize the gravity of the situation and pulls Sherry away from the gate. Good. At least they’re getting out.

Once all the B.O.W.s in their way are dead, he runs towards one of the side corridors, Piers’s good arm slung across his shoulder. Finn follows closely, shooting at the guards to make them take cover. The guards yell and posture threateningly with their guns, but do little else besides firing off warning shots. Wesker must want to capture them alive. 

Piers keeps up with them, driven by adrenaline, though every jostle to his shoulder is obvious agony. A few more B.O.W.s burst into the corridor and begin to chase after them. He takes them out before catching up to Piers and Finn. The ringing in his ears and the accompanying sense of dread get stronger at an alarming rate. They are losing what little head start they have… 

While they are crossing a narrow bridge to get to one of the higher platforms, he hears Wesker screeching his name. 

“Go,” he orders Piers and Finn, who look at him stubbornly. “Hurry!”

Wesker sprints towards them with breakneck speed. Chris throws a punch with as much force behind it as possible and catches Wesker in the shoulder, sending the madman back despite his speed and momentum.

“Chris!”

“Piers, I said _go!_ ” Chris manages to block a blow from Wesker, then hurls the madman back. He needs to do everything he can to give Piers and Finn a chance to escape.  He can’t win against Wesker, but he doesn’t have to win. He just needs to make sure Wesker is distracted and unable to go after the others, no matter what.

Wesker isn’t wearing his sunglasses. The blazing red eyes are in plain view and brimming with rage. Chris tries his best to direct Wesker away from where Piers and Finn are heading. He is struggling to keep up with Wesker’s attacks, but is so far able to keep Wesker occupied. Wesker has the advantage of speed, but he can hit hard enough to send Wesker staggering. The psycho gets angrier as the fight progresses, growling out Chris’s name like a curse. 

To his dismay, he spots more B.O.W.s out of the corner of his eye, then hears the sound of yelling and gunshots in the direction that Finn and Piers have gone. Seized with dread, he throws Wesker into a nearby beam, which breaks and causes a part of the scaffolding to collapse. Wesker falls to the lower level, buried by the rubble. He races towards the other two, desperate for them to still be okay. He needs to at least take out some of the enemies before Wesker recovers. Charging in, he rips apart every B.O.W.s in sight with his combat knife and even his bare hands, not caring that he is becoming covered in blood and gore. 

When he is about to attack the mercenaries herding the B.O.W.s, there is a scream of pain. Turning to look, he is met by the sight of a barbed vine piercing Piers’s injured shoulder, from a B.O.W. that he missed. Blood gushes out of the new wound. Terrified that an artery has been severed and that Piers will bleed out, he scrambles to get to Piers, but Wesker reappears at this most dire moment and blocks him tauntingly. Truly desperate now, he attacks fiercely in an attempt to gain the upper hand, but becomes increasingly panicked. Wesker recovers quickly from the hits he is able to land, whereas each blow from Wesker saps his strength. Wesker lands more hits on him and gradually wears him down, like death by a thousand cuts. Eventually, Wesker gets the upper hand and pins him to the ground. He is trying to wrestle Wesker off of him when suddenly, an accented voice yells, “stop or die!” He barely sees Finn and a mercenary grapple and tumble off the edge of the scaffolding. The two hit the ground below with a heavy thud. Neither of them move again. 

He stops struggling entirely. Finn can’t be dead. Can’t be... At this rate, he is going to lose Piers too. Piers is collapsed on the ground, clutching his profusely bleeding shoulder and getting weaker by the second. Completely unconcerned that someone is dying in front of them, a mercenary is gloating and kicks a piece of debris down to where Finn and their companion have fallen.

Wesker barks something harsh in Russian to the mercenaries before turning back to him. “I think it’s time for your little friend to enjoy my hospitality again. He still has a few uses that are worth keeping him alive for.”

Still too shell shocked to react, he remains paralyzed when Wesker turns him onto his stomach and traps his wrists behind his back with one hand. The second Wesker’s bare hands touch his skin, he is wracked by fiery pain, like he is being electrocuted. It becomes unbearable when Wesker’s hand presses down against the fresh bite wounds on his shoulders. These wounds, unlike the others, have barely healed. He screams and begins to thrash mindlessly in an attempt to get away. Distantly, he hears Wesker growl above him and feels the grip on his neck tighten, causing the pain to spike even more. Wesker’s knee digs hard into his back, keeping him down, before the too familiar sensation of an injector is against his neck, followed immediately by the burn of its contents being injected into him. Almost immediately, his limbs grow heavy. Black begins to creep into the edges of his vision.

Once he is too weak to struggle any further, Wesker pulls him upright by the front of his shirt. The iron grip returns to his wrists, causing his body to quiver feebly in pain. “Time to remind you again of the consequences of betrayal, Chris. We’ll take as long as you need for the lesson to stick,” Wesker says once they are face to face. The last thing he sees before everything fades into darkness is those red eyes glowing dangerously.

=

Piers slowly comes to, feeling terribly weak and struggling to open his eyes, which are crusted shut. He tries to move, but finds himself tied down. There are multiple IVs running who knows what into his veins. He looks at his right arm, which is unrestrained, almost expecting to see the barbed spike sticking out of his shoulder, but it is gone. His right arm and shoulder are heavily bandaged but not hurting. It must be drugs... He is in a hospital bed of some sort, propped up into a sitting position. He doesn’t remember anything beyond the sudden pain from being skewered in the shoulder, and then… Finn had tumbled over the edge while fighting a mercenary. He is not sure what happened to Chris, Jake, or Sherry, but least Jake and Sherry got past the gate. He has to hope that they made it out and were able to call for help, be it the B.S.A.A. or someone else. 

Fighting back exhaustion and nausea, he examines his surroundings. He is in a different room from where he and Finn were kept. Maybe they’ve been moved somewhere else entirely? But that doesn’t mean they can’t escape again. After all, they’d managed it once, right?

“Piers...”

Chris is a short distance away, looking ill at ease. His Captain is bent over a bench, hands and feet tied to a metal bar near the floor. His exposed back is covered in half-healed wounds. Piers seethes at the sight, realizing what Chris had to go through in the days before their failed escape. Before they can talk more, Chris tenses, suddenly on high alert. His now-red eyes glance worriedly in all directions, the fear in them palpable. Wanting to get to Chris, Piers lunges forward despite the restraints, which causes sharp pain to shoot through his useless arm. He fails to hold back a yell and has to focus on breathing through it. Moments later, the door opens and Wesker swaggers in, wearing all black as usual. Chris begins to struggle harder the second Wesker enters the room. To his growing unease, he notices that Chris is completely naked.

 _No. No no no, don’t you dare, don’t you_ fucking _touch him!_

Much of the information surrounding Chris’s previous disappearance is above his security clearance, but he realizes with a terrible sinking feeling what Wesker is going to do next. Wesker is a dead man walking. One armed or not, he is going to _murder_ the bastard.

“So you’re both awake,” Wesker says casually. “Good, we can begin the first phase of the experiment.” He picks out a long stick. “You brought this on yourself, Chris.” 

The first hit is brutal and lands between Chris’s shoulders with a loud thwack, leaving a welt that immediately begins to bleed. Piers pulls against his bonds, but can’t even move. He can only watch this man torture his Captain…

“How _dare_ you run off again? You’ve disobeyed me for the last time.” More hits punctuate the man’s rambling. Chris gasps and trembles as his previously healing wounds are ripped open. Piers grits his teeth in rage, but before he can open his mouth to say something, Chris’s eyes dart to his in a silent plea to stay quiet.

“I should have started on your little friends when they were both alive, but one test subject will suffice.”

Piers feels punched in the gut, realizing what Wesker is saying about Finn. Realization dawns in Chris’s eyes as well. Chris turns as pale as a sheet and trembles harder, but the beating continues without pause. Piers can do nothing. He helplessly looks to the IV drips, suddenly worried about what could be in them. 

“You’re not infected _yet._ Don’t worry, the signs are very obvious,” Wesker says to him with an evil smirk and grabs a cattle prod next. The psycho presses the prod against the inside of Chris’s thigh, causing a scream of pain.

“I wonder if Chris had a chance to tell you,” Wesker shoves the prod hard against Chris’s shoulder, making Chris scream more, “that no one escapes me. Neither of you are leaving until I allow it. And that’s not happening anytime soon.” Wesker picks up the stick again and brings it down hard over Chris’s back, the heavy hit slamming him down into the bench and knocking the wind out of him. Chris lets out a choked cry and is unable to catch his breath as he is struck repeatedly. When Chris makes an attempt to talk after he finally gets his breathing under control, the stick hits him twice in quick succession and gets him screaming again. Vivid bruises bloom across Chris’s back, along with the blood that is welling up from the reopened wounds. Wesker puts the stick down and tilts Chris’s chin up with the cattle prod, the business end almost brushing Chris’s shoulder.

“Please, d-don’t, let him go, I-I’ll do anything, ple--” Chris begs, but is cut short when the cattle prod shocks his upper back. Piers pulls at bindings restraining him to the bed, but is too weak to get free.

_No no no! I have to stop this...I have to get him out of there!_

“We’re past your empty platitudes, Chris. You’re _mine_ , to do with as I please. Since you had the gall to try to run away, you’ll have to be re-taught the consequences you have willfully forgotten.”

Chris’s eyes are wide and fearful, his entire body shaking. Seeing his Captain broken down to this extent, Piers can't help but be reminded of the state Hosea and Ramirez were in after being rescued, as well as the deaths of the rest of that team at Wesker’s hands. 

Wesker shoots an accusing glare at him, as if he is to blame for what is happening to Chris right now. The nerve of this psycho! He struggles harder, but to no avail. The abuse goes on and on, only stopping when Chris is limp and on the verge of passing out. Wesker pulls Chris’ head up by the hair and lightly slaps him awake. “No sleeping on us just yet, Chris. If you do that, I’ll have to ask your little friend to entertain me.”

“Stop it! Let him go you goddamn psycho! ” Piers shouts, unable to keep quiet any longer. He struggles as much as he’s able, trying to get out or do something, anything, to get Wesker’s attention. 

The movement is too quick for him to see. Wesker backhands him, making his head ring from the pain. A needle is jabbed into his bad shoulder.

Chris is yelling something in the background. Wesker has a dangerous smirk on his face as he goes back to Chris, dropping an empty syringe onto a nearby table. 

Piers suddenly feels ill. “You bastard, what--” He nearly throws up from a wave of nausea that passes over him.

Chris looks aghast. “No! You c-can’t--”

“He is a reason for your current insolence, and will be punished accordingly.” Wesker’s voice is low and dangerous. 

Piers tries to breathe through the pain, barely biting back a scream. It feels like something is ripping through his wounded shoulder and arm. 

Wesker taps the stick leisurely against his palm and circles Chris predatorially. “You are going to be reminded of what happens when you betray me. Since you never mentioned to him what we are, I think it’s time for your little friend to see a live demonstration.”

“NO!” Chris screams and begins to thrash. 

Piers snarls and tries to lunge forward, but it doesn’t last long when pain lances through his arm, making him pant and shake. Wesker grabs his hair and secures something around his head. The tight strap scraps against his forehead and forces him to look straight ahead at Chris.

“Don’t you dare!” Piers growls, even though it’s an empty threat. He feels increasingly feverish. A strange sensation begins in his arm and shoulder,  like he is being pricked by tiny needles.  

“Chris is mine, and soon you won’t be cognitive enough to care. Shouldn’t you be more worried about yourself? For now, enjoy the show. You’ll be the only one to see it.”

Chris is struggling so hard that the ropes around his wrists and ankles are becoming stained with blood. Wesker watches the two of them struggle, not bothering to say anything else. Chris has descended into a blind panic, pulling madly at the restraints and wanting nothing but to get away. 

Piers shivers in pain and averts his eyes from the terrible sight, but an ear-piercing cry gets him to look back. Wesker has positioned himself behind Chris and is digging his fingers into a gash on Chris’s back. 

“Do try to pay attention. I will make things worse for him if you don’t.”

“B-bas-bast-” His tongue is heavy in his mouth and his throat feels like it is going to close up. The pain radiating up his arm and shoulder is spreading to his back. He can only watch as Wesker lowers his bloodied hand out of sight to do something unthinkable, then thrusts his hips against Chris, leaving little to the imagination. It doesn’t take long before Chris is screaming at every touch and convulsing everytime Wesker thrusts into him. The psycho secures Chris’s hip with one hand. The other hand pushes down on Chris’s upper back, fingers pressing into the open wounds. 

Piers shouts outraged obscenities at Wesker, who ignores him completely. Chris screams and screams, but he is helpless to do anything to stop the psycho responsible. It feels like his arm is splitting apart from a burning, spastic pain, like he is being tazed. He smells burnt flesh and possibly boiling blood as something in his arm ripples and tears. Unexpectedly, a heavy door that looks almost like an airlock descends between him and his Captain, sealing him into his half of the room. He lets out an inhuman screech and reaches out on instinct, only to freeze at the sight of his right arm. Pieces of bone are sticking out at odd angles amongst exposed muscle and strange pulsating blobs. The right side of his face feels wet. 

Chris looks utterly horrified, his struggles tapering off and his eyes losing focus. Wesker smirks and says something quietly to Chris before picking up the pace. The hand on Chris’s back moves to grab a fistful of Chris’s hair, forcing Chris to look at him. Enraged, he rips through the other restraints and attacks the door between them despite the pain skyrocketing every time the exposed bone and muscle in his arm touch anything. The vision in his right eye is blurring, but he has to get to Chris. He has to!

He beats and slams against the door until he can’t even stand. Collapsing onto the floor, he can barely raise his head to look at what is happening now. His thoughts scatter and grow fuzzy.

_NO! I have to save him! I have to...have to…_

“Not the reaction I was hoping for, but for now I have to deal with the rest of Chris’s punishment. You will soon be far more docile. After all, this virus is designed to turn humans into B.O.W.s that can be trained to obey commands. Let’s see how far along you get before I decide whether you are worth keeping, dog.”

He pounds weakly against the door, not even having the energy to be surprised when his deformed arm discharges a bolt of electricity that fizzles out weakly. Chris shows no visible response and looks completely out of it, eyes glassy and head resting limply against the bench. Wesker unties Chris, who doesn't resist, and hauls him out of the door and out of Piers’ sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am both very sorry and not sorry at all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker punishes Chris, then prepares to move to the new base.

Chris feels his body contort as fiery pain shoots through him, forcing out another hoarse scream. He is tied face-down to a wooden rack, limbs stretched taut, pulling at already sore and hurt muscles. A metal collar is around his neck, welded on during this new round of punishment, after Wesker took him away from Piers. Part of his neck and and a patch on his chest were burned by the welder when he struggled, leaving raw red marks that constantly sting and throb. He can’t do much more than react to the pain. He is back in the torture room, trapped, unable to escape. He never should have tried, never should have disobeyed. Everything is too scattered, too mixed up, too-- **Now Piers knows what you really are, and he is going to die soon because of you.**

**This is all your fault. It’s ALWAYS your fault. Admit it.**

Wesker pulls his head up by the hair and slaps him out of his thoughts. His skin burns from Wesker’s touch. Everything hurts. The electrodes and a thin metal rod, placed at his most sensitive parts, send pure pain through him. Earlier, he had broken down again and begged and struggled when Wesker took out the thin metal rod from before, but that didn’t stop Wesker from putting it in him, and...

**It’s** **_your_ ** **fault. All you had to do was behave, but instead you got the others involved. How did that work out? It’s always the same. You always end up failing everyone. Because of** **_you_ ** **, they’re going to die. You should’ve just played the cockwarmer for Wesker, even if you’re piss-poor at that too.**

The pain courses through him again. He chokes as his body spasms involuntarily, pulling at the restraints and ripping open a deep gash on his arm, left there by the stick that was used to beat his front and back. When the pain pauses, he is utterly exhausted, sucking in breath in high-pitched whines. Despite how he can hardly focus, his brain replays over and over the sight of Piers hideously transformed, lunging and snarling at him.  

His vision is blurry from tears. He let Wesker do...that to him in front of Piers, and because of his failures Piers is infected and disfigured, his will stolen from him. Because of Chris’s idiocy, Jake and Sherry are alone and heading to a potentially hostile area.

And Finn...Finn is…

**What did you expect from such a half-baked plan? You thought you could keep them safe? They followed you and died, just like every team you’ve ever led and anyone else who’s ever gotten remotely close to you.**

**_But not Wesker._ **

**He’s not human. What normal person would want to be around you? Nobody else wants you. Not even Jill would give you a pity-fuck. But you already know that, don’t you?**

**Took Wesker long enough to see it.**

It’s true. He is no good. Whenever he tries to do anything, it is a complete disaster for the people around him.

A series of broken, ugly-sounding sobs escape him despite his attempts to stay quiet. Wesker sneers, the disgust clear on his face. “You can’t even take your own punishment. Pathetic.”

Everything is occupied by pain again as the electricity is turned back on, making him flinch and twist desperately. The burn on his chest scrapes against the rack and the injuries on his back rip open further with every movement. After what feels like an eternity of agony, it finally stops.

“I’ve left the diseased dog for long enough. Time to see about putting him down. You, on the other hand…” Wesker approaches. Chris cowers, fearing more pain. His throat feels swollen and raw, but he can’t let Piers die here…

**He’s tired of you now. What can you possibly do to convince him to keep your little dog around?**

“...p-pl-pl-e-” Wesker’s hand grabs him by the neck and stops the half-formed word. He wants to beg for forgiveness, to promise to be good from now on, but his body fails to do anything besides trembling and choking. He is never strong enough.

“You should take some time to think about what you’ve done.” 

He snivels feebly as Wesker removes the electrodes from his groin and inner thighs and pulls out the metal rod, then unties him from the rack. Whimpering, he stays still and dares not move his cramping arms this time. Wesker drags him off the rack by the metal collar, choking him and making him land painfully on the floor, then calls out something in Russian. Four mercenaries enter the room. Wesker barks out more orders in Russian, then leaves without a second glance at him.

More tears stream down his face as he fails to pull himself together. Piers is going to die and he can’t lift a finger to help! All he can do is lay on the floor, completely useless, his trembling body too weak to do anything. 

The mercenaries observe him ominously for the next few minutes, but do nothing else. However, once Wesker is too far away for him to detect, they begin to talk animatedly amongst themselves in Russian as he tries to crawl away. Without warning, one of them kicks him hard, sending him sprawling. Another roughly wrench his arms back, nearly slamming him face-first against the floor. He wants to fight back, needs to… **Can you even fight them off? You can’t even fight Wesker.**

**_Wesker can defeat anyone. It’s always been this way._ **

The men pull him up from the floor by his wrists and continue their jeers as they march him towards a corner of the room. He belatedly sees the box that Wesker put him in before to trap him in utter darkness and silence. Realizing what is coming next, he struggles and manages to dig his heels in for a brief second, his mind empty of anything except fear, but that doesn’t slow them down. In retaliation, they press their fingers into his many wounds, causing new pain to wrack through him. 

**Face it. You’re a useless weakling Wesker is going to throw aside as soon as this is over. He isn’t even going to put you into the box himself. You’re going to wake up and those monsters will be fucking you again, like back in Africa. Except this time he won’t come save you.**

Terrified of being left to those monsters, he cries and struggles more, gasping when the movements pull on his wounds. In his flailing, he manages to break free and hit one of the men holding him. The mercenaries curse and beat him harder, grabbing at the most sensitive of his wounds in retaliation. A vicious kick to his bad knee causes pain to radiate through his entire leg. He collapses to the floor. One of them glares at him hatefully before kicking him hard in the stomach. While he is wheezing and trying to catch his breath, the man leans down to growl out in heavily accented English, “your men as dead as ours. Don’t care what the big boss said, the one left won’t survive the night. Neither will slut girl and bastard.”

He tries once more to punch, kick, or get in a solid hit of any kind, but can’t even scream his rage and terror, let alone hit anyone. He is too weak, his injuries too numerous....

_ “This is what will happen to anyone who tries to get between us, Chris,” Wesker promised darkly. Through all the pain, he watched Piers become hideously deformed while those words repeated in his head… _

**_Wesker doesn’t want me to win. I can’t win then… I’m not…_ **

His muscles weaken involuntarily.

**_I can’t...he...I can’t..._ **

The mercenary cackles and says something to the others before they all resume beating him without mercy. He feels several ribs break, but can barely muster the strength to curl up to protect himself from the onslaught. When he is a bloody, barely conscious pile on the floor, they pull him up and drag him towards the box.

_ My fault...I was weak, couldn’t save them and made things worse...they’re all dead...Finn...Piers… _

**Don’t forget, they’re gonna kill the others too...** _ Jake...Sherry... _ **All your fault** ... _ my fault... _

**Well, now you can see how useless you are. Once this is done, Wesker can kill you too, and find someone else who is worth his while.**

**=**

Leaving the room where he disciplined Chris, Wesker glares at the dim, flickering lights in the hallway, a reminder of the damage Chris has done with the escape attempt. Moving to the new facility is the priority now.

The contents of his lab are packed and ready to go. He plans to leave last so that he can do a final sweep to make sure nothing of importance is left behind.

_ “I know they wouldn’t want this.” Chris said rebelliously, face scrunched in pain. _

_ Sherry’s eyes were wide and cold, any warmth towards him gone. Jake, if he had any curiosity about his father, was raging after being informed of his eventual plans for them. _

If he had listened to Chris and held off on telling Sherry and Jake too much of his plans, perhaps the two’s behavior would have been different. Chris has never met Sherry before now, but his sister must have told him about her, hence Chris’s accurate anticipation of her reactions. As for Jake, he is uncertain what approach has the highest likelihood of turning his rash, temperamental son to his side. He should have simply left the two alone initially and focused his attention on Chris. Instead of allowing the newly re-apprehended Chris to interact with people other than himself, he should have taken the time to instill in Chris that willful actions had consequences and that he would always belong to Wesker, no matter how far he tried to run. If he had waited until Chris was more trained before allowing him to interact with Sherry and Jake, the children would have had a trusted person to speak to about their grievances, while Chris would have been inured to Jake’s rebellious ideas.

He pulls up the files about Chris, all deeply encrypted to protect from prying eyes. Chris’s ability to sustain punishment appears to have greatly decreased in the past few days. In the past, Chris rarely begged, no matter how brutal the punishment. His wounds also seem to be healing at a far slower rate. Unlike before, the injuries did not visibly heal when he gave Chris an hour of rest before resuming the well-deserved punishments. Perhaps the extended time away from Wesker, after Chris absconded with Jill, is causing the immune system to suppress the virus and the accelerated healing it confers? If so, he’ll have to be more careful with how he handles Chris. Granted, Chris has never earned such severe punishments until more recently. Even compared to their time in Africa, when any sight of the outside resulted in Chris attempting to run away, Chris was never as spiteful and rebellious as he is now. Back then, Chris was still frequently punished, but Wesker had admittedly done more to care for Chris and provided pleasure as well. Regardless, these changes in Chris need to be further evaluated once they arrive at the new facility.

He was hoping that Chris could eventually be taught that he could earn privileges for good behavior. The initial results were promising, when Chris responded well to consistent reward and discipline. However, after such a betrayal, after Chris had not only disobeyed but also openly rebelled… He could start using the P30 on Chris again, but it is not a long-term solution, not to mention that overreliance on the P30 nearly lost him Chris in the past. The existence of compound is already known to other parties because of the two agents the B.S.A.A. managed to recapture, though he remains the only one capable of synthesizing it. 

His indignation at Chris flares up again, and he decides to pause this train of thought for now. Chris is being boxed and prepared for transport, and there is no time to interrupt the process for another round of discipline. He runs over the timetable in his mind. He has already assigned a number of mercenaries to search the town, despite being unimpressed with their performance thus far. Still, it is not impossible that the mercenaries may locate Sherry and Jake before they depart for the new facility. If they fail, he would simply hire more capable individuals to retrieve the children at a later time. 

Heading to the loading area, he confers with a mercenary, the group’s leader, on an inventory of what has already been packed. He nods his approval. “Focus on packing everything for transport, and recall the men assigned to the town in four hours, or give them their wages and have them leave the area.” If Jake and Sherry manage to get through to someone, people from the B.S.A.A. would definitely be on their way here. At this moment, he has better things to do than to deal with that organization. No doubt they will do their best to end his life, as well as Chris’s. He has no plans to oblige. Chris will stay with him, safe from any snipers trying their luck.

He updates the mercenary on his plan regarding the B.O.W.s. The ones in storage are becoming active, with the loss of power to the containment units. A few of the dead ones are loaded into cryostasis for future testing, while the remainder are incinerated. This current building resembles the Arklay mansion enough that Jill will have some fun with it, especially once the live B.O.W.s are unleashed. No doubt she will be at the vanguard of the mission to “save” Chris.

“What about the agent?” the mercenary asks in Russian, referring to Chris. The other two B.S.A.A. underlings are simply referred to as “younger one” and “wounded one.”

“What about him?” He glances at the mercenary, eyes narrowing. He hired this particular group to do what they are told and keep their mouths shut, nothing cerebral. Given some of their cavalier attitudes when handling B.O.W.s, those individuals must have worked with B.O.W.s in the past, which is uncommon. Despite widespread knowledge of the existence of B.O.W.s, they are rarely used and only obtainable through a select number of arms dealers. As demonstrated by the recent fiasco with the ELA, it is extremely difficult to use B.O.W.s, which are feral and unpredictable, in traditional conflicts such as territorial disputes. This has limited their use thus far, but once B.O.W.s can be made more directable...

“When you’re done with him, will we get to kill him for the trouble he caused?” The mercenary looks almost eager for an answer. 

“I’ll take care of the agent.” He focuses his attention fully on the man, who flinches almost imperceptibly. “What is your concern with him?”

“He, that is, they killed…”

“Nothing happens to the agent without my consent. If I feel he must be punished, then I will personally carry it out. Not you, or any of the others under your command. Is that understood?”

“Yes.. _. _ ” the man replies, sounding more sullen than frightened. 

After dismissing the man, Wesker debates whether to keep these mercenaries. They are getting too curious for their own good. Perhaps they have outlived their usefulness. He will decide once things are set up at the new base, before he administers Chris’s final punishment. 

Speaking of which… He sets up the self-destruct sequence on the computer. This facility, like most Umbrella facilities, has capabilities for timed self-destruct, except its system is much more sophisticated. He programs the system to be silently activated fifteen minutes after any of the main doors are breached, and can’t help but smile a little as he informs the mercenaries of this plan. If he times this right, Chris will be up and awake to see the lovely explosion that results, hopefully with Jill and the other B.S.A.A. agents in the building. 

If the B.S.A.A. has any sense, this upcoming loss will cause it to give up on this costly pursuit, and he will finally be able to keep his pointman in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There shall soon be TWO new stories. I'm not sure when, but they will. One is a bit of a side-story, showing the fate of Piers, Jake, and Sherry, while the other will deal with the consequences of these last few chapters. I hope you all enjoy it!


End file.
